


Logistical Complications

by disappointed



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Doyoung needs a break and Yuta makes his life miserable, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, Wedding Planner AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-17 11:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 74,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11850483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disappointed/pseuds/disappointed
Summary: Doyoung is a stressed-out wedding planner struggling to keep his life together. He's determined to give his favourite clients Johnny and Taeyong the best wedding ever — that is, if he can make it to the big day without killing their handsome and infuriating Man of Honour, Yuta.





	1. T-12

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was originally written for a prompt at nctwritewrite 2017. however, due to a bunch of irl things, i couldn't get the fic done in time and chose to continue it after the fest ended. however, after that it took on a life of its own and spiralled way, _way_ past the initial plan. this is the ongoing result. 
> 
> thank you so much to my recipient for the wonderful prompt, the enrara mods for putting up with me and my tlist for constantly enduring my wails of distress! you are all the best ♡

Doyoung meets with Johnny and Taeyong on a humid June day, about twelve months before their three options for wedding dates. He's met them once before, for the initial interview and signing of his contract, and he recalls them being very nice. They have a kind of bland story about how they met, but a hilarious story about how the proposal went wrong. They both greet him at the door and welcome him into their spacious flat. They're a gorgeous couple: Johnny is tall and handsome with friendly eyes and a winning smile, and Taeyong has the lithe body and high cheekbones of a flawlessly sculpted doll. Their wedding pictures are going to look so good. 

"Have a seat wherever you want. I'll get you some water," Johnny tells him, and heads to the kitchen. 

Doyoung slides off his shoes and follows Taeyong's lead down a short hallway that leads into a large open-plan living area. He sits down on the sofa bench across from its actual-sofa counterpart, because it's the closest piece of furniture to the aircon. He smooths down his freshly dyed lavender hair, which has gone frizzy from the humidity, and looks around the flat. There's a strikingly attractive man in a revealing sleeveless shirt lounging on the sofa across from Doyoung, next to where Taeyong has sat down. He smiles in acknowledgement of Doyoung. "Hi. I'm Yuta." 

"Yuta's a friend of ours," says Taeyong.

"He just invites himself over whenever he wants. We can't get rid of him," Johnny says, returning with Doyoung's water and joining him on the bench. Doyoung gulps down the water like he's just hiked across a desert, trying to do so as subtly as possible and not entirely succeeding. Once he's back from the brink of dehydration, he puts the glass down on the coffee table and fishes a notepad and pen out of his bag. 

"Okay, so let's get a little more into specifics about the kind of wedding you want," says Doyoung.

"So, I know at our first meeting we decided on it being kind of medium-sized," Johnny starts, and Doyoung begins to scribble notes as he talks. "Since we do have a lot of family and friends to invite. But we're not going for anything too big or fancy. We'd like it to still feel like a small ceremony." 

"That sounds nice," Doyoung says. "Have you thought about where you might want to hold the ceremony or the reception?"

"Isn't it your job to figure that out?" Yuta cuts in.

Taeyong smacks Yuta lightly on the thigh. "We were thinking outdoors," he says. "Probably under a tent — because of the sun or the rain, either way. For decorations, we were hoping for a lot of flowers."

"Flowers are nice," Doyoung agrees, sketching a few lopsided blossoms on the side of the paper to remind himself of a few ideas that have come to mind. He turns to a clean page in his notepad and prepares to get down to business. "So, we've already decided on your overall budget. Have you broken it down a little more specifically, with how much you'd want to spend on each expense?"

"They have to come up with that too?" snorts Yuta, raising an eyebrow. "What are you even here for?" 

"Yuta, stop it," Taeyong scolds.

Doyoung is starting to really dislike Yuta. Yuta might be amazingly good-looking and have terrific arms, but Doyoung is beginning to suspect he might be a complete asshole. So far, the evidence backs him up. Only three of the words Yuta has said this whole time haven't pissed him off. Doyoung's eyes come up to fix him with a displeased look, and he finds Yuta giving him something between a disdainful expression and a smug smirk. Doyoung feels his face morphing into a glare entirely of its own accord.

"Yeah, we have a rough breakdown of expenses," Johnny says. It's right around — Taeyong, where did you put those papers?" 

"They were on the coffee table," Taeyong says, and frowns, looking over the empty table. "Weren't they?" 

"I don't know, you were the one that had them." 

"That's okay, we can look for them later," Doyoung says, and flips back to the page with the flower sketches. "Have you thought about wedding colours yet?"

"Whatever colour your hair is, not that," Yuta interjects.

Doyoung officially wants to kill him. Doyoung wants to jump over the coffee table and wring the neck of this rude, obnoxious, self-satisfied jackass. But because Yuta's friends are paying him a considerable amount of money, Doyoung grits his teeth into a painfully forced smile. "Okay. Duly noted."

 

 

Doyoung discovers shortly after their ill-fated first meeting that Yuta is the wedding's Man of Honour. How he came about that title is a funny story. The events unfolded like this:

Taeyong and Johnny choose their best men independently of each other. They both choose their mutual friend Jaehyun, a handsome and charming guy with decent manners and the right disposition for a hilarious toast at the reception. They also ask Jaehyun independently of each other. Jaehyun agrees to both requests. They don't put this together until a week later, when it's far too late for one of them to choose someone else. The reasoning behind this is simple. 

"Do you want to look like we spent a week debating who likes him less?" Taeyong asks Johnny flatly.

"Shit, you're right," says Johnny. "Besides, it couldn't be me. I had sex with him once in college."

"I did too," Taeyong reminds him.

"Oh. Right. Fuck." 

Taeyong and Johnny accept this state of affairs as an amusing mix-up, reasoned that Jaehyun is best and man enough to fulfill the role for both of them, and go on with their lives. However, upon sitting down another week later to choose the rest of the wedding party, they are simultaneously hit with a sudden recollection. 

"Oh my god, _Yuta_." 

Making Yuta a best man at this stage is simply not an option. However, putting Yuta in any role that diminishes his importance in their lives and his opportunity for involvement in the upcoming nuptial proceedings is also not an option. Should they make any choice that causes Yuta to feel offended or slighted or emotionally wounded, the remaining time until the wedding will be a very, very long twelve months. Realising the corner they have backed themselves into, Taeyong and Johnny begin to throw out anything and everything that could possibly offer a socially acceptable way out of it. 

"Groomsman?"

"Okay, good luck telling Yuta he's part of the _ordinary_ wedding party."

"Ringbearer?"

"I trust Jaehyun with the rings about ten times more."

"Maid of Honour?"

"We have Seulgi." 

"Officiant?"

"No way in hell." 

At this point, in sheer desperation, Taeyong suggests, "Man of Honour?"

"That's not even a thing," says Johnny. However, they don't have any actual things left. He considers the idea for a moment, then nods. "Alright, that works."

The next day, when they inform Jaehyun and Yuta of Yuta's new role in the wedding party, Jaehyun laughs his ass off. "You should've called him the Second Best Man," says Jaehyun, and then gracefully dodges the shoe Yuta flings at his head.

For better or for worse, Yuta has assumed his position as a major part of the wedding process with great seriousness.

Doyoung comes down on the side of "worse".

 

 

June has been a rough month for Doyoung. Or, more precisely, the past several months have been rough months for Doyoung. He's coming off the end of assisting with an enormous and mind-bogglingly expensive wedding between a businessman named Yunho and an actor named Changmin, both of whom were extremely rich with important positions to maintain in society. They were a lovely couple, but every part of the process was a ridiculously complicated and high-stakes nightmare. When Doyoung closes his eyes, he can still see phantom glimmers from glittering crystal chandeliers and thousands of tealights. Occasionally, he wakes up crying from nightmares about the ten-tier wedding cake toppling into the ice sculpture garden and sending everything crashing down onto the president of a mid-size country.

Needless to say, Doyoung is really praying that Johnny and Taeyong's wedding is going to be a relatively stress-free affair.

Today Doyoung is meeting them for lunch to discuss their breakdown of expenses within the wedding budget, since they had previously been derailed from it by the misplacing of papers by Taeyong and the misplacing of manners by Yuta. Doyoung arrives at the restaurant to find that the papers are present this time. Unfortunately, so is Yuta.

"Thanks for being willing to meet us on our lunch breaks," Taeyong says, when Doyoung reaches the table. Their seating configuration forces Doyoung to sit next to Yuta. Yuta smells nice. However, he's still Yuta. Doyoung isn't thrilled. "I know this is a tricky time of day."

"As if he has so much to do," Yuta says.

At that moment, however, Taeyong's phone rings. He looks down at the screen and smiles. "Oh, it's my mother. Sorry, I have to step outside and take this. Johnny, you should come with me. You know she'll want to talk to you too."

"Yeah, of course," says Johnny. He gets up from the table along with Taeyong. "We'll be right back."

Doyoung had hoped Yuta might not be an involved part of the process, but Yuta seems to be taking his completely made-up Man of Honour responsibilities seriously. This means there's a good chance that whenever Doyoung is around, Yuta will be as well. Doyoung doesn't like where this seems to be going.

"No offence," Doyoung says, as soon as Johnny and Taeyong are out of earshot, "but do you not have a job? Or a life?"

"I do, thanks. And they're better than yours." Yuta sips his tea in a way that somehow manages to convey an air of superiority.

Doyoung narrows his eyes. "What are you even doing here besides running up the bill, and running your mouth?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Yuta says. " _No offence_ ," he parrots back in a mockery of Doyoung's voice, "but aren't you kind of pointless? You just get a big room, some flowers and food. It really can't be that hard to plan a wedding."

Doyoung sees red. All the stress and rage of the past few months of suffering, along with the anticipation of the next few months of suffering, rush into him at once. He opens his mouth to unleash it all upon Yuta in a stream of uncontrollable rage and profanity, but at the exact moment before he puts voice to his fury, he's saved from setting of a chain of events that would probably lead to him committing a felony by Taeyong and Johnny returning to the table.

"Wow, Doyoung, you look kind of flushed," Taeyong says, voice full of concern. He presses the back of his hand against Doyoung's forehead to feel for a fever. "Are you feeling okay?"

"No, it's just hot in here," Doyoung replies from between gritted teeth. "I'm sorry, I'll be right back. I'm going to get some air."

Doyoung stands up quickly, chair scraping against the floor, and tries to exit the restaurant as calmly as possible. As soon as he steps outside, he immediately regrets this choice. It wasn't exactly the smartest or most believable move to go "get some air" in the humid, unbearably hot midday summer atmosphere. He already feels like he needs to get some air to get away from getting some air. But he can't go back into the blissful aircon of the restaurant, not yet. His body is shaking with pent-up outrage and adrenaline, and he feels so, so tired.

It's not the first time he's heard those kinds of dismissive and derisive statements. His profession isn't always the most well-respected, and it's a common misconception that wedding planning involves nothing but following a simple checklist and then showing up on the day-of to tell people where to go. How Doyoung _wishes_ that were true. And if it were true, then the demand mechanism of the free market wouldn't have invented and sustained the wedding planning profession.

Usually, Doyoung can brush those assertions off easily. He knows that his job's required level of constant multi-tasking, communicating, juggling of schedules, managing of logistics, remembering of the tiniest details, and rushing around the whole city and surrounding area in record time isn't something the majority of people can handle; he usually has at least ten weddings in rotation at the same time, and very few people could pull that off. So Doyoung is very confident in his skill set, and confident that those who belittle it couldn't actually do what he does. However, this time it's got to him.

Maybe it's the intense pressure he just survived from Yunho and Changmin's wedding. Or the nightmare client whose wedding is quickly approaching, feeding an attitude of entitlement that has her convinced Doyoung exists entirely to fulfill her every demand. Or maybe the million other logistical threads he's currently weaving into several unwieldy and fragile tapestries. Or maybe it's the fact that something about Yuta really, really gets under his skin.

But despite all of that, Doyoung is a professional (despite what certain assholes might think). And so he collects himself, breathes the tension out of his body with the expertise of a meditation tape, and heads back into the restaurant.

"Sorry," Doyoung says, as he sits back down at the table. "Okay, let's go over your breakdown of expenses."

"Sure," says Johnny. He indicates a bowl set down at Doyoung's place at the table. "We didn't know what you wanted, so we ordered you bibimbap. Is that okay?"

"Yes, that's perfect." Doyoung smiles, picking up his spoon and beginning to mix the components together. His heart melts a little. Despite the nightmare that is Yuta, Taeyong and Johnny have been wonderful to work with so far. Given how many meals he has to skip due to lack of time to eat, feeding him is possibly the nicest thing anyone could have done for him. "Thank you. Really, thank you."

"No problem." Taeyong slides a piece of paper over the table, and smiles a little sheepishly. "We weren't entirely sure what the costs of these things would be, so we just wrote down the maximum we'd be willing to spend on each, and then what we'd ideally like to spend. Don't be afraid to tell us if it's completely unrealistic."

Doyoung unceremoniously shoves a spoonful of bibimbap in his mouth, and then scans the paper as he chews. It seems Taeyong and Johnny are aiming for an average-priced wedding, and it won't be difficult to put together something that fits into their budget range. They seem to want a lot of flowers, and have greatly underestimated the cost of a wedding cake, but Doyoung's sure they'll be receptive to moving things around.

He swallows and nods, looking up from the list. "This seems pretty reasonable. But there are a few amounts that are a little high, and some that are a little low. As long as the final cost will come out to the same, would you be willing to shift some money around? I promise, it'll make sure you end up with the best option for each."

Taeyong and Johnny nod. "Yeah, that's cool," Johnny says. "You know best."

"Supposedly," Yuta mutters under his breath. Doyoung's hand clenches around the handle of his spoon.

Doyoung keeps a pleasant smile on his face as he looks at Johnny and Taeyong. "Alright, now that we have some price ranges, let's go a little deeper into the details of what you want."

After that point, it's a fairly productive meeting. Yuta mostly occupies his mouth with food, and Doyoung gracefully ignores the occasional verbal jab Yuta sends his way. By the time the couple's lunch breaks end, they're in a pretty good place. Doyoung has been sufficiently fed, and has a much clearer idea of how to proceed in obtaining things and putting them all together. The lingering Yuta-induced aggravation is still somewhere under his skin, and he knows it's going to emerge later, but he thinks he can suppress it for the next few hours.

"Okay, I'll get to work on everything we discussed," Doyoung tells Taeyong and Johnny, as they all stand up to leave. "It's been nice seeing the _two_ of you."

Following the precedent they seem to have established, he doesn't say goodbye to Yuta when he leaves.


	2. T-11

Johnny and Taeyong's wedding doesn't take up much of Doyoung's time and energy for most of July. They're far enough out in the timeline that it's too early to get most of the things they need; once Doyoung's helped them flesh out what they'll eventually obtain, the only thing they really have to do during the next month or two is decide on venues for the ceremony and the reception. Doyoung is always on-call for this, of course, but he finds that couples generally prefer to find the locations on their own. While he often provides guidance on the reception venue, it's been his experience that couples have a clear picture in their mind of where they want their wedding to take place. He actually thinks it's kind of sweet to hear what they envision for the moment they've been dreaming about, although he's seen his fair share of disappointment and descent into madness as couples frantically hunt for the place that exactly mirrors their mental image. He trusts Johnny and Taeyong not to go down that path, though.

Which is fine with Doyoung; he has two weddings in July, and has opted to take on two more to work on for next July. He generally tries to avoid having three or more weddings in a month, even during the summer busy season, for the sake of preserving a bit of his sanity. Once a wedding hits the T-1 mark, that last month becomes a whirlwind of activity as everything hurtles towards the finish line. And everything else goes out the window on the actual day-of, which is nothing but a stream of frantic energy and non-stop sequences of events. Summer is truly a hell of a time.

He checks in with Johnny and Taeyong occasionally to see how they're doing. They reassure him they're doing fine, that everything is on schedule and under control, and there's no need to worry. Normally, Doyoung wouldn't fully believe any client who claims that everything is fine, but he feels like he can put faith in Johnny and Taeyong. That's a very, very rare feeling. 

Though, if he's honest, he kind of misses them. Not their Yuta parasite, obviously, but them. 

So he lets himself get swept up in the parallel sequences of mayhem his life is composed of. He endures endless barrages of 3AM texts from Nightmare Client, only to tune out her furious screaming when he isn't able to return her call until 6AM. He relentlessly hounds various services contractors for the wedding of Bobby and Hanbin, a couple who insisted upon choosing the most unreliable and unresponsive set of contractors Doyoung has ever encountered. He schedules countless cake tastings and meetings with photographers, only to have to reschedule them all when he discovers that in his sleep-deprived state he mixed them up. With every angry or misguided or stubborn client he deals with, he can't help wishing that he was dealing with the eternally understanding and calm Taeyong and Johnny instead.

When he finally steps out of that particular period of maelstrom, he's all too happy when his attention returns to them.

 

Doyoung frequently complains that he feels like his job is broken into two segments: replying to emails, and everything else. He isn't entirely exaggerating. He opens his inbox and looks at it in abject despair; in the span of a few hours, hundreds of emails have managed to stack up. A solid quarter of them are from Nightmare Client. She and Doyoung are both dreaming of the day her wedding finally takes place. 

He scrolls through the inbox, lamenting at how short the scroll bar is, doing a preliminary skimming of the senders and subject lines. Most are questions from clients, requests for meetings and various replies to his contract questions and logistics verifications from contractors. A few are password reset links, because his passwords keep getting pushed out of his mind with everything else he has to remember. Somewhere near the middle of the seemingly endless list, sent around 3:30AM, is an email from Taeyong. He's not entirely sure why, but he chooses to open this one first (he has a sneaking suspicion, however, that it's because this gives him a justifiable excuse to put off opening anything from Nightmare Client).

_Doyoung,_

_Do you have any time free to stop by this afternoon? Unfortunately, we've run into a problem with the venue we chose. We're free anytime between 1 and 5. If you're busy, that's fine! We can work out another time._

_Taeyong_

And the thing is, Doyoung _doesn't_ really have any time free. He has to deal with a photographer who accidentally deleted all of his footage from the first July wedding, and track down a missing custom-made wedding dress. He then has to pick out a few options for floral arrangements for a very nice couple, Hwasa and Moonbyul, who are unable to make it to the meeting with the florist themselves today but would still like to participate in the selection process. Shortly after, he has to run across the city to yell at a caterer who has decided, less than one month before the wedding, that they're no longer going to serve half the things on the agreed-upon menu. And in the evening, he has to meet with a _new_ couple whose wedding he has agreed to take, even though the last thing he wants to do right now is bring any more weddings into his life. 

But there's a way he can make time. Cutting it dangerously close, he can use the tiny sliver of time between his meetings with the florist and the caterer. A tiny sliver of time he was planning to use to actually eat something today, but a tiny sliver of time nonetheless. It is theoretically feasible for him to run over and meet with Taeyong before unleashing a week's worth of pent-up anger on Bobby and Hanbin's traitorous caterer. For just about anyone else, Doyoung would reply that he doesn't have the time today, would they mind looking at Wednesday? But damn it, damn it all, Doyoung has developed a soft spot for this particular wedding. 

So, resigning himself to ending up in a 24-hour convenience store to gather an assortment of snacks for a 9PM breakfast again, Doyoung sends a brief reply. 

_Hi Taeyong,_

_I'll be there at 3PM._

_Doyoung_

 

At 3:05PM Doyoung knocks on the door of Johnny and Taeyong's flat with his foot, arms full of bridal bouquets. It's Yuta who answers the door, because of course it is.

"Holy shit," says Yuta, looking at Doyoung's artistically designed and painstakingly chosen flower arrangements. "Those are really fucking ugly." 

Doyoung feels a flash of the feeling he has named Yuta Annoyance, because it's a unique phenomenon and deserves its own name. "What would you know?" Doyoung asks, narrowing his eyes. "As a person with no experience with flowers?"

"As a person with _eyes_ , I know those are really fucking ugly."

"As a person with no interest in your opinion, I'm ignoring you," Doyoung says. He edges by Yuta into the flat as aggressively as he can without damaging the flowers, and kicks his shoes off aiming directly at Yuta's feet. "I think Johnny and Taeyong aren't trying hard enough to get rid of you." 

Yuta follows Doyoung down the hall, and Doyoung harbours a brief fantasy where he puts the flowers down carefully on a table, grabs Yuta, shoves him out the door and locks him out. However, because Doyoung likes to think of himself as a calm and composed individual (but mostly because there is no table nearby), he does not do that.

Johnny and Taeyong are waiting for him at the big kitchen island, with a folder and various papers spread out in front of them from the compilation of things that has become their Wedding File. At the sight of the flowers, Taeyong smiles. "Doyoung, those are beautiful," he says, and Doyoung resists the urge to let out a little triumphant _ha_ in Yuta's face. 

"Thank you. I think the brides will really like them," Doyoung says, making sure to put a little extra emphasis on _really like_ for the sake of a certain person without taste or manners. "Do you mind if I put them in your refrigerator? I'm meeting with the couple tomorrow, but I didn't have time to stop by my place to store them there." 

"Yeah, no problem. Let's move some stuff around," Johnny says, getting up to open the refrigerator and clear some space for the four bouquets. Doyoung's arms are getting tired, but he stands there waiting patiently. Of course, he can't resist the urge to gaze longingly into the refrigerator. It looks like Johnny and Taeyong actually cook things themselves. Doyoung bemoans how perfect they are, and tries not to calculate what his takeaway bill for the month is. Once he's arranged the bouquets carefully on the shelves cleared off for him, he returns to sit at the island with Johnny and Taeyong. Yuta's sat in his usual spot on the sofa, working intently on something Doyoung doesn't give a fuck about, and Doyoung makes it a point not to look at him after the initial precursory glance.

"You said in your email that you had a problem with your venue," Doyoung says, getting down to business. "What happened?"

"They accidentally double-booked it," Johnny says. "And unfortunately, they took the other reservation first. We either had to pick a different date, or pick a different venue. We decided on the second option." 

"Oh. Sorry, that sucks," says Doyoung. He slings his bag off his shoulder and rummages through it, pulling out his notebook and a pen. "So you're looking for a new venue now?" 

"Yes," Taeyong replies. "Actually, we were hoping you might have some suggestions. Since you've done a lot of weddings, you might know of a good place within our price range … preferably one that won't double-book us." He smiles wryly.

"I can definitely give you some suggestions. I might have to get back to you on it, though, since I don't remember all the prices offhand." Doyoung flips back to the pages containing notes from their initial meeting. "You wanted something medium-sized, hosts outdoor events, has contingency plans in place for rain, and somewhere on the same property to hold the reception? And I assume you'd prefer something close to the original location?" 

"Yes, that's right."

"Okay, I can do that." Doyoung flips to the to-do list, and makes a note of this new action item. "I'll do some research, and send you a list of venues that fit your criteria. Once you've decided on one, I can help you book it. For example, making sure the contract contains some provisions that will get you good compensation if you get screwed over again." 

"You're the best," Taeyong says, and smiles. "What would we do without you?"

"Spend a couple minutes doing an online search and not have to listen to Doyoung's voice," Yuta mutters, just loud enough to be heard.

"You don't have to listen to it," Doyoung shoots back, before he can process the words coming out of his mouth and stop himself from saying them. "You don't live here, right?" 

Sure enough, a split second later, his processing functions catch up. Their quick assessment of the situation ascertains that he should now be moderately horrified. Doyoung's emotions react accordingly. As appropriate as he finds it to snark at Yuta, it is definitely not okay to lose his composure and be rude to his clients' friend _right in front of them_. He looks up at Taeyong and Johnny with a deer-in-the-headlights face, preparing to stammer out apologies — 

— and then they both laugh.

"He's right," Johnny says, looking over at Yuta. "Y'know, considering how often you take up space in our home and how much of our food you eat, you should be paying rent." 

"Hey, you love me," Yuta replies in a haughty tone, betraying it with a grin. "Besides, I'm just being a good Man of Honour and helping out with the planning of your special day. It's amongst the noble duties of my role to be present at these important things, and keep it all from going off the rails."

"You made up the duties of your role," says Taeyong.

"They're important nonetheless," Yuta declares. "Besides, if _Doyoung_ can be here for who the fuck knows what reason, my presence is definitely justified." He returns his focus to whatever he's attentively working on, and leaves Doyoung glaring at him while biting back another stinging remark. 

"Sorry Yuta's an asshole," Johnny says, turning back to Doyoung and giving him a reassuring smile. "And hey, feel free to roast him anytime." 

"You really mean that?" Doyoung asks, his eyes shining with hope. He must look as eager as he feels, because his expression draws a laugh from Johnny. 

"Definitely," Taeyong agrees. "Any Yuta roasts have full immunity."

"You're really the best clients I've ever had, you know that?" It sounds like flattery, but Doyoung is being sincere. He's never been granted permission to retaliate against any of the awful people he has to deal with, and certainly not with the force of his usual savage self. It feels wonderful. A beautiful world of opportunity has been opened up to him. He feels almost _excited_. 

However, as if to bring him crashing back down to reality at the happiest moment he's had in a week, his internal clock suddenly kicks in. He checks his phone, and his eyes almost pop out of his head. "Oh god. I totally lost track of time. I have to go destroy — um, _meet with_ — a caterer." 

"Yeah, definitely do that," says Johnny, as Doyoung frantically stuffs his notepad into his bag, almost chokes himself slinging the strap diagonally over his shoulder and trips over his stool while jumping up from it. "Thanks for your help. And don't forget your flowers."

"Oh, right." Doyoung disentangles his foot from the legs of the stool and heads over to the refrigerator. He manages to retrieve two of the bouquets without any trouble, but as he tries to ease the third one out from between two of the shelves, he nearly drops the ones in his arms. He contorts himself quickly to trap them against his body, frowning as he attempts to figure out how he's going to pull this tricky manoeuvre off. According to his mental calculations, the number of arms he has is less than the number of arms he needs to do this without destroying any of the delicate flower arrangements. 

"Yuta, why don't you help Doyoung with his flowers?" Taeyong suggests. "Be a good Man of Honour and actually do something useful."

Yuta lets out an exaggerated sigh. He flings his papers onto the coffee table, gets up from the sofa and drags himself over to the kitchen like he's been ordered to carry a boulder instead of a few flower bouquets. He joins Doyoung at the refrigerator and takes the first two out of his arms, making another noise of irritation. "Do _not_ drop those," Doyoung warns, giving Yuta a look that probably counts as a threat. Yuta rolls his eyes. Despite his obnoxious expression, Doyoung can't help but notice how ridiculously good-looking he is. He hates that this thought always crosses his mind whenever he sees Yuta up close. It's a tragedy that such a beautiful face is wasted on such an irritating person. Once again, Yuta smells very nice. Doyoung still hates him.

Doyoung gets the other two bouquets out of the refrigerator with ease. He shuts the door with his hip, trying to casually nudge Yuta behind him to get hit by it. It doesn't work. He gives Johnny and Taeyong a smile. "It was nice to see you two, as always," he says. "I'll send you a list of venues by tomorrow afternoon." 

"Great seeing you too," Johnny says.

"Good luck with your _meeting_ with the caterer," Taeyong adds.

Doyoung strides off to the door without waiting for Yuta, and doesn't bother checking if Yuta's keeping up with him. No sooner has Doyoung slid his shoes back on and opened the door than Yuta immediately shoves the flowers in his face, trying to jam them back into his arms. Doyoung struggles to get a hold of them without dropping any of the others, and glares at Yuta over the entire garden he's hugging to his chest. "Wow, really helpful," he says.

"I didn't want to hold them for any longer than necessary. Their ugliness could be contagious."

"You don't need to worry. It looks like you already caught it from somewhere else," Doyoung retaliates snidely.

"So you actually _can_ get more annoying." Yuta snorts. "I didn't think that was possible, but you've proved me wrong." 

"I'm sure you're used to being wrong." Doyoung looks him over with an expression of disdain just as harsh as any Yuta's ever given him, and steps out of the flat. "If it bothers you, you're always free to fuck off. I'm sure nobody would miss you. If you _really_ want to see someone who contributes nothing useful, look in a mirror."

Yuta attempts to slam the door in his face. However, he doesn't even get to slam the door at Doyoung's ass; Doyoung is already halfway down the hallway. He hits the elevator button with his elbow, takes a deep breath of the lovely scent of the flowers, and tries to release all the Yuta Annoyance from his body. It's all he really can do. He has a feeling Yuta won't be fucking off any time soon. 

Unfortunately for Yuta, neither will he.


	3. T-10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to the lovely person who prompted this: this story isn't finished yet. due to a bunch of irl things, i couldn't get the whole fic done in time. this is just a temporary ending. i don't want to leave off at a point that may not be entirely satisfying to you, so i will continue this fic after enrara! i have the entire thing plotted out, and a lot more written but unedited, so there will eventually be an ending that is hopefully more satisfying. i promise i will finish this fic for you, even if it takes a while!
> 
> thank you to everyone who held my hand and drowned in my tears along the way, especially my wonderful friend [bee emoji], who got me through crunch time with patience, support and amazing salad.
> 
> and of course, i am eternally grateful to the mods for your hard work and your incredible patience with me, you are the best ♡

The first Saturday in August is one of the happiest days of Doyoung's life. That's because Nightmare Client, who has been plaguing him for almost a year, is finally, _finally_ walking down the aisle and out of his life. Doyoung sheds a tear of joy when she says "I do", and tries to disguise it as being emotionally moved by the couple's personally written vows. Admittedly, they were touching. 

Doyoung usually feels incredibly drained by the end of a wedding reception and the beginning of the clean-up involved. This wedding is no exception. However, he does feel like the one of the heaviest of the approximately five hundred weights on his shoulders has been lifted when Nightmare Client tells him haughtily, "I suppose you did a decent job with this whole affair," and sweeps out of the reception hall with her harried newly-wed husband hurrying out behind her. Once they're out of sight he grabs two glasses of champagne, clinks them together in a toast to himself and drains them in less than a minute. 

He just has to make it through August. After August, the summer busy season will be over. After that, he can return to the leisurely pace of one wedding per month, one new client per month, and a resounding _hell no_ to anything past that. At least, until March. 

Doyoung grabs another glass of champagne, and downs that equally quickly. The bubbles bring with them a sense of philosophical optimism. If there's any benevolent force in the universe, it will allow Doyoung's exhausted and tortured soul to make it through the rest of August without any unnecessary trouble, drama or disasters. 

Maybe the optimism is more like tipsiness. 

But of course, when Doyoung needs to avoid stress the most, that's exactly when hell always breaks loose.

 

 

Upon getting solid confirmation from all members of the wedding party, Taeyong and Johnny hold a get-together for them. They pick a Friday night, and invite them all over for cocktails and snacks. They call it a Wedding Party Party, and Doyoung thinks it's brilliant. Having wedding party members who haven't met before get to know each other before the wedding will minimise the social awkwardness at the rehearsal dinner and on the wedding day. Additionally, Doyoung enjoys having a chance to mingle with the other participants in this affair, meet Taeyong and Johnny's friends, and eat small cubes of cheese on sticks. The free alcohol is also great. Doyoung really likes this idea. He thinks more couples should do this. 

When Doyoung rushes over to the party from a last-minute meeting with Bobby and Hanbin, he finds he's the last one to arrive. Everyone has already formed small groups throughout the flat's open-plan living space and kitchen and are talking animatedly over the music, drinks in hand. Doyoung isn't exactly shy, and he's used to having to quickly connect with groups of unfamiliar people, but he still pauses in the opening at the end of the hallway. He can see a clear path to the snacks and cocktail tables, which is really what matters, but he finds himself hesitating anyway. 

"Doyoung!" Johnny calls from somewhere in the middle of the room, and waves at him. "Come over here and meet some people!" 

Doyoung gives him a little smile of relief and heads over to where Johnny is, just outside where the ambiguous border between the living space and kitchen seems to be. The lighting is dimmer than usual, but the party's not too big and Johnny is very tall, so it isn't difficult to make his way to him. Johnny's in a cluster with another very tall guy and two beautiful women with brightly coloured ombre hair. Looking at them, and looking around the party, Doyoung feels a little intimidated. Unsurprisingly, all of Johnny and Taeyong's friends are as attractive as they are.

"Hey, Doyoung, I want to introduce you to — wait, let's get you a drink first," Johnny says. "Here, I haven't touched this one yet." He hands Doyoung the glass currently in his hand. It's filled with limes and ice, and Doyoung eyes it curiously. "Caipirinha," Johnny tells him, then claps him on the shoulder. "Taeyong might have overdone it a little with the cachaça. Start out slow, because that stuff packs a punch." 

"Okay," says Doyoung. He takes a small sip, is hit with a brief recollection of the hell of a day he's had, and then immediately proceeds to gulp a solid third of it down. Johnny wasn't kidding; it's really strong. With the state of Doyoung's life right now, that's a good thing. Finally separating his mouth from the rim of the glass, he gives the rest of the group a much more relaxed smile. "Hi, I'm Doyoung." 

"Doyoung's the wedding planner," Johnny explains, and then indicates the rest of the group. "This is Hansol, Joy and Seulgi. Groomsman, groomsmaid and maid of honour."

"Nice to meet you," Doyoung says. "Let's work together well." 

"You will. You're great, and they're great," Johnny says, then claps Doyoung on the shoulder again and pulls him out into the middle of the social gathering. "C'mon, let's meet some more people." 

Johnny whisks him through introductions to two more groomsmen, Sicheng and Mark, and the other three groomsmaids, Wendy and Yeri and Irene. They reunite with Taeyong over by the snack table when they detour to get Doyoung some fancy crackers, a few shrimp and another drink. 

"Try a mojito," Johnny suggests, switching one out with the empty glass in Doyoung's hand. "It'll balance out that overpowered caipirinha. Taeyong barely put a splash of rum in these." 

"My cocktails are fine!" Taeyong protests, then blinks hard. "Woah, okay, I'm feeling the caipirinhas." 

"Next time, I'll help. We can follow the recipes a little more closely, and maybe go with a theme besides "shit, we bought too many limes"." Johnny snags a mojito and Taeyong's hand, then kisses him on the cheek. "Now let's go make Doyoung some more friends." 

Their officiant, Taeil, is a longtime friend of the couple. At first Doyoung looks over his head, and his line of vision has to be directed downwards to meet his eyes, but he's adorable. Taeil seems to be a bit of a wallflower, enjoying the company of himself and the corner he's placed himself in, but he's happy to answer Doyoung's questions about his call to ministry. "I did get my certificate off the internet," Taeil admits. "But I got it for a different wedding that I also officiated, so I think I count as an actual officiant by now." 

That's more experience and advance planning than Doyoung's seen for a lot of officiants, so he nods reassuringly. "You're definitely official." 

Doyoung also meets their flower boy, Donghyuck. Donghyuck is holding a drink that Taeyong has to sniff suspiciously to ensure it's one of the alcohol-free ones, because apparently, there was a much higher chance that it wasn't. "I'm not too old to be a flower boy," Donghyuck says, immediately after Taeyong introduces his role. "And I am _great_ with flowers. I think they're jealous of me, but I'm great with them." 

"You're definitely not too old," Doyoung says, steadily working his way through his mojito. It's loosening his tongue enough for him to add, "Actually, I'm glad to see you. God, I have so much trouble with the four year olds. I got beaten up with a flower basket once, and almost had a historic mansion burnt down by some little girl knocking a candle over while throwing a tantrum."

Donghyuck snorts. "I am _so_ much better than that," he says. After a moment he adds, "I like you. Yuta was totally wrong about you." 

Doyoung chokes on his mojito. He freezes in place, but his blood is beginning to boil. "Wait. What did Yuta say about me?" 

"Doesn't matter, Yuta says plenty of wrong stuff," Donghyuck says, which isn't really an answer. He looks up and across the room, and then waves in the direction of the snack table. "Hey, Mark! You're here! I thought this room felt fifty percent stupider and uglier than usual." He struts over to the helpless groomsman to alternate between flirting with him, bullying him and feeding him mozzarella balls on toothpicks. Doyoung is left with a lot of questions, and a sense of slowly intensifying anger. 

Before he can think too much about it, however, Taeyong takes him by the arm and leads him over to where the sofas have been moved. "You haven't met our best man," he says, and deposits Doyoung in their vicinity. Taeyong waves over a guy in the group congregated near the relocated furniture, and when he approaches, Taeyong presents Doyoung like a trophy. "This is our wedding planner, Doyoung. He's in charge of making the wedding happen." 

The mysterious best man opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by a loud crash followed by several yells. Doyoung looks over to see the snack table has somehow been knocked over; Donghyuck is stood next to the mess with a mock innocent expression, Mark is near him looking absolutely mortified. "Oh. Oh god. I'll be back," says Taeyong, and rushes over to the scene of the disaster. 

"Okay, I guess I'll try the introduction again. I'm Jaehyun," the best man says, with a dazzling smile. Maybe it's the cocktails, but Doyoung is struck by how incredibly handsome he is. "I'm in charge of delivering an amazing toast and getting the bachelor drunk."

"Which one of them?"

"Don't know yet. Yuta and I are gonna flip a coin." 

"Yuta?" Doyoung wrinkles his nose. "What's his idea of a party, hosting the unfunniest roast of all time?"

Jaehyun laughs. "Good guess, but I think he's probably gonna go with the same old classic, getting the bachelor drunk." 

"If I had to go to a party with Yuta, I'd want to be drunk too," Doyoung mutters. 

"Technically, you _are_ at a party with Yuta," Jaehyun points out, and indicates Doyoung's empty mojito glass. "So I'm guessing you're gonna want another cocktail?"

Doyoung follows Jaehyun to the cocktail table, skirting the Donghyuck-disaster clean-up area and making a beeline for the alcohol. To his relief, there's still plenty. He grabs another of the super-strong caipirinhas and doesn't waste a moment in downing several large gulps. He can feel Yuta's presence in the room, and that alone is enough to set him on edge. It doesn't help that Yuta's been flitting from group to group, chatting and laughing with them all loud enough to be easily heard over the driving beat of the music, giving Doyoung the impression that his grating voice is coming from all sides. Each time it reaches his ears, it's like being smacked in the face with a tangible manifestation of aggravation.

"So I'm going to guess Yuta's been giving you a hard time," Jaehyun says, opting for one of the pitifully weak mojitos. His life must be in a much better place than Doyoung's. Doyoung looks around them and finds Taeil, Wendy and Irene are almost directly beside them; the combination of the alcohol cracking his emotional floodgates open and his sense of common decency briefly interact, leading Doyoung to pull Jaehyun back down to the relatively secluded sofa and sit him down. 

"Yeah, he's been pissing me off," Doyoung says as soon as they're as out of earshot from the other attendees as they can get. "Was it that obvious?" 

"Kind of." 

Doyoung drowns a dispirited sigh with another gulp of his caipirinha. By the bottom of this glass, he might _really_ regret disregarding Johnny's advice. "God, I'm sorry. This is really unprofessional. I'm supposed to be doing a job here, and instead I'm making bad drinking decisions and complaining about your friend." 

"No, it's cool. I know how Yuta can be, and I don't blame you," Jaehyun reassures him. "If it helps, nobody pays a lot of attention to what he says about people." 

And in an instant, just like that, Doyoung is hit with another burning rush of anger. He vaguely remembers that the boiling point of blood is slightly over 100°C, and is fairly certain that would feel like room temperature to him right now. "Oh. I see." His voice is low and dangerously composed. "And what has he been saying about me?" 

"Uh." Jaehyun looks uncomfortable. Doyoung recognises very well the look of someone who's realised too late what they've said, regrets that it left their mouth and is trying to figure out how far to backpedal on it. "Just typical Yuta stuff, y'know. He doesn't really mean it." 

" _What did he say?_ "

"That you're … annoying. And not really needed." Jaehyun's voice is apologetic and tinged with embarrassment, but admirably honest. "I think some of his exact words were, uh, "obnoxious and unnecessary. Cute, but obnoxious and unnecessary". Yeah." 

Doyoung grinds his teeth together, his fingers clenching so hard around the cocktail glass in his hand that it seems possible he'll shatter it. "Oh." 

So Yuta's been talking shit behind his back. Doyoung isn't surprised, exactly, but he'd figured Yuta would keep his rudeness confined to their antagonistic interactions. Bitching about him to people besides Taeyong and Johnny is a whole different level of savageness that Doyoung had naively thought Yuta might not sink to. Still, Yuta definitely possesses the fucking nerve to do it. On top of that, he apparently possesses the nerve to mock Doyoung at the same time. _Cute?_ Knowing Yuta, the word must have been dripping with condescension. 

"That's just him, though. Don't take it personally. He never actually means anything he says as harshly as it sounds." Jaehyun shrugs. "And Yuta's a weird creature, so who knows. This could even mean he likes you."

Doyoung scoffs. Several phrases come to mind, such as _not bloody likely_ and _I don't think he's even capable of liking anything_ and _weird creature doesn't begin to cover it_ , but before he can decide on which to snap out, Jaehyun drains his mojito and checks the time on his phone. "Sorry, I have to get going. But it was great meeting you. I'm sure I'll see you around soon." Doyoung watches Jaehyun get up and wander back through the groups of party attendees, saying his goodbyes, and snaps his eyes away when he sees Jaehyun approach Yuta. 

Doyoung sits there alone on the sofa with his half-empty cocktail, half of his anger growing into something ugly and twisted and the other half fading into something that's just discouraged and tired. He hates how Yuta can take something like this and ruin it. How, because of Yuta, he can't have anything nice. And even worse, Yuta doesn't even have to interact with him to ruin his day; he's apparently perfectly capable of crushing Doyoung's spirits without so much as a look in his direction. And he seems to be doing it entirely for fun. Doyoung's had his fair share of horrible clients, but those made sense on some level; they wanted things, they wanted them perfect and they were going to make that happen even if they had to destroy Doyoung to do it. Yuta, however, just seems to be harbouring a personal grudge that Doyoung has done absolutely nothing to deserve. And instead of simply ignoring Doyoung like a reasonable person would, he seems determined to tear Doyoung down just because he _enjoys_ it. Doyoung doesn't understand it, he doesn't like it and he wants it to stop.

Yuta's stood by the large picture window dominating the outer wall, his slender figure softened by the low lighting in the room and his gorgeous features illuminated by the glow of the city outside. He's laughing with Hansol, Yeri and Joy, looking like the image of a congenial social butterfly instead of a vicious backstabber. Doyoung's been making a point to ignore him all night, but he's struck with the sudden urge to stomp over there and confront him right here and now. To tell Yuta he's tired of whatever stupid game he's playing, whatever his fucking problem is, what an asshole he is. Maybe throw a drink on him, because that's about the level of pettiness Yuta seems to be operating on, and Doyoung is nothing if not willing to match any level of pettiness he is met with. And he's about a second away from doing the mental math on whether that would fall under the Yuta savaging immunity granted to him by Johnny and Taeyong, but then his logic and reason returns. 

Doyoung is, above all, a professional. It would be a horrible decision to risk this job because he's emotionally wounded, easily baited and probably a little bit drunk. Yuta's not worth it. Yuta isn't worth _any_ of his energy. 

Doyoung finishes his drink and gets up from the sofa. It's time to get out of here. He returns his empty glass to the table from whence it came and makes his way to Johnny and Taeyong to bid them goodbye. 

"I'm going to head out now. Thank you for inviting me. I had a wonderful time," Doyoung tells them graciously. He doesn't sound like he's had a wonderful time, not one little bit, but it looks like they've both hit the cocktails hard enough not to notice. Taeyong pulls him into a tight alcohol-scented hug, and despite the initial surprise, Doyoung finds himself hugging back. 

"Glad you could make it," Johnny says. "We'll see you Sunday?"

"Sunday," Doyoung confirms, when he's finally released by Taeyong. "I'm looking forward to it." 

Just as Doyoung was the last to arrive, he's the first to leave. He steps out into the hallway and shuts the door behind him, cutting off the inviting noise of the party and leaving him in silence. As soon as he steps out of the building, the muggy air begins to suffocate him. He hails a taxi, wonders how much the alcohol has actually been affecting him, and wonders why he feels like he's missing something.

 

 

Sunday is two days later. However, when Doyoung shows up at the new venue Johnny and Taeyong are about to make a final decision on and sees Yuta there with him, it feels like not a single second has passed since the last time he saw Yuta's stupid pretty face on Friday night. A thousand years could have passed, and it would _still_ feel like there hadn't been nearly enough time between his interactions with Yuta. 

But Doyoung thinks about Friday night, and tries to draw from it. He attempts to channel that sense of resolution and restraint he felt in the moment that he decided not throw a drink on Yuta, and graciously took his leave. And after what he found out during the party, he's now absolutely certain he has the moral high ground between the two of them. Because _he_ doesn't go around shit-talking Yuta behind his back (well, to anyone besides himself. And his mirror). So he drags himself out of his car, plasters a bridal-magazine-worthy smile on his face and makes his way over to the trio already on the venue grounds. 

The place is absolutely beautiful. It was a long drive out of the city, but it was worth it. The premises encompass an expansive outdoor space and garden, with a reception hall only a short walk across the property. The crowning jewel, however, is a huge crescent-shaped hedge maze that makes an incredible backdrop for ceremonies. It's tall enough to tower over anyone who enters it, and large enough to get lost in. Inside it there are a few inlets that contain rose bushes, and a romantic private garden in the centre. Doyoung had known this place was right at the top of the couple's budget, but he had added it into his list of suggestions because he'd had a feeling they might fall in love with it. He's glad to see he was right. He'd planned a wedding here last September, and had found the space to be charming and versatile, and thus very easy to work with. 

"Oh, good, you didn't get lost," Doyoung calls out to them as he approaches. Taeyong and Johnny laugh. Yuta gives him a judgemental expression. When he reaches them, he says, "I'm happy you liked this place so much. It's beautiful." 

"After seeing the options you sent us — especially this one — we don't regret losing the other venue at all," Taeyong says. He gives the premises another sweeping look, and smiles. "This is really great, Doyoung. You're amazing." 

"Yeah, you found a field, some bushes and a room with a dance floor. You're incredible," Yuta says, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"And you found the most annoying thing it's possible to do. Opening your mouth," Doyoung says, smugly playing his newly bestowed Get Out Of Yuta Roast Free Card. "You're incredible." 

"And _you_ —" Yuta begins to fire back, but Doyoung smoothly cuts him off.

"So from what I understand you've taken a tour of the place on a previous visit, and today's visit is to confirm it has the edge over your final options, right?" Doyoung asks, turning to fully face Johnny and Taeyong with his back to Yuta. When they nod, he smiles brightly. "Great. Let's take a walk and discuss what some of your options for a set-up here might look like." He links his arms with Johnny and Taeyong's and marches off with them on either side of him, leaving Yuta to hurry to catch up with their backs while feeling like the fourth wheel on a tricycle. For at least a brief moment he must feel out of place and unnecessary, just like he tries to make Doyoung feel. It's a small thing, but it still fills Doyoung with a mean thrill of triumph. 

The triumph doesn't last long. 

It doesn't disappear all at once, however. It ebbs away bit by bit, eroded by the continued presence of Yuta. In true Yuta fashion, he manages to gradually and constantly chip away at whatever raised spirits Doyoung had snatched out of the jaws of his frequent feelings of defeat. He does it through breathing, existing and blessing them all with his usual disparaging remarks. 

Doyoung begins a discussion with Taeyong and Johnny on where exactly in the expansive outdoor space the wedding tent should be placed, and Yuta says, "Wherever it's not going to look like a circus." 

Doyoung offers a few potential configurations of chairs with varying numbers of rows and columns, and Yuta says, "This is like hearing someone read aloud a boring furniture spreadsheet."

Doyoung leads them into the reception hall and begins to discuss the arrangements of tables for maximum ease of navigation and social harmony, and Yuta says, "I'm okay with any arrangement that doesn't put you anywhere near me." 

Doyoung asks Taeyong and Johnny what kind of music they were planning to have and what kind of space would be required for it, and Yuta says, "I'm in favour of whatever would drown out your voice the most." 

Doyoung guides them back outside and over to the garden, showing them the path through the hedge maze, and Yuta says, "This would be a great place for you to be during the wedding. The whole time." 

After an infuriating forty five minutes, the four of them stand outside the entrance to the hedge maze. The sun is shining, the clouds are peacefully drifting along, and Doyoung's mood is a thunderstorm. Johnny and Taeyong remain oblivious to his strenuously suppressed fury. Yuta remains openly amused. Doyoung entertains graphic fantasies of removing that expression from his obnoxious beautiful face in some very inadvisable ways. 

"I think it's decided," Taeyong says, with a quick look at Johnny, who nods. "You've sold us on the place, Doyoung. This is the one." 

"That's great," Doyoung says. He can't resist adding, with concealed bitterness, "I'm glad you liked the field, bushes and room with a dance floor." 

"We love them. Actually, walking around and everything … I can picture what the day is gonna be like. When I get to take Taeyong as my husband for the rest of my life," says Johnny. He takes Taeyong's hand in his, squeezing it lightly. Taeyong looks up to gaze lovingly into his eyes, and Johnny leans down to kiss him with a profound tenderness. It might be sickening if Doyoung wasn't desensitised to these kinds of things, and if they weren't, well, an absolutely perfect couple. Doyoung has another one of those occasional times when a beautiful moment pierces through his shell of stress and independence, and he feels overwhelmingly single. 

"Do you mind if we walk around together for a little while?" Taeyong asks, when they finally remove their perfect faces from each other's. "Alone?" 

Doyoung can't begrudge them that. It's kind of heart-meltingly sweet that they want to go around and imagine their special day. Every bone in his body is saying _no no no_ , because this means he's going to be stuck here alone with Yuta, but he forces a painful smile onto his face. "Of course. Have fun." 

And then they abandon Doyoung there, in the vicinity of Yuta. It's a terrible place to be. Doyoung doesn't want to be there anymore, so he makes the executive decision to retreat inside the hedge maze to wait for Johnny and Taeyong. It's not that he's hiding from Yuta, exactly, but more that he's practicing strategic avoidance. Surely Yuta won't want to be around Doyoung any more than Doyoung wants to be around him, and therefore he will remain outside the maze probably taking hundreds of selfies and marvelling at his own beauty until the lovebirds return. Doyoung figures this is a pretty safe assumption.

Doyoung is wrong. 

He should have known, really. He should have known that Yuta wouldn't give him a break from the ruining of his life. After all, aggravating him seems to be Yuta's version of fun, and so Doyoung shouldn't have found it implausible that this would win out over self-absorbed appreciation of himself. And so when Yuta follows him into the hedge maze, all Doyoung can think is, _of course. Of fucking course._

"These flowers are actually pretty," Yuta remarks, stopping at an inlet and reaching down to touch a rose. To Doyoung's disappointment, he skilfully avoids the thorns. "It's kind of nice in here."

Yuta says it calmly, amiably, as if he hasn't spent the past hour insulting Doyoung and the past three months savaging him at every possible opportunity. "If you like it so much, maybe you should stay in here," Doyoung suggests. "Permanently."

Yuta laughs. Actually laughs, and it's bizarre. It doesn't make any sense at all. But then Doyoung flashes back to what Jaehyun said: that maybe this all isn't _personal_ to Yuta. That it's not fuelled by animosity or cruelty, but rather, is actually some weird kind of banter. That makes Doyoung even madder, somehow. "I have a duty to bless the world with my presence," Yuta says. "I can't remain stuck in here." 

He sounds so amused that Doyoung can't take the sound of his voice anymore. Yuta's talking to him like this is all normal, and Doyoung hates that it is normal for Yuta, because it's not normal for him. He hates that Yuta can make his life ridiculously difficult, and seemingly not be bothered by it at all.

"You know what, can you _not_ talk to me?" Doyoung asks sharply.

Yuta raises an eyebrow. "Okay, I'm starting to think you don't like me."

That's it. That's the absolute last straw. Doyoung finally explodes.

"You're right. I don't like you. You're rude, you disrespect me, you insult me, you get in the way and you always have something to say that never actually helps. It's like you're here just to be a pain in the ass, and to piss me off. I've tried to be patient with you — because your friends are paying me, that's the only reason — but my patience has limits. You are annoying and awful and you're now past those limits. So for once in the past three months, you're right. I don't like you, and it's your fault. It's _your fault_ , Yuta, and I don't fucking like you."

Doyoung's breathing hard from the strength of his tirade. His breathing is the only thing audible for several seconds. And then finally Yuta says, "Wow. It was just a comment."

"And everything else you say is _just a comment_ too, right?" Doyoung's anger hasn't yet exhausted itself. "I'm trying to do my job here — yes, it's an actual job — and you're purposely making it difficult. I wouldn't do that to you, despite how much of an asshole you are, so please use some basic fucking manners and don't do it to me."

Another several seconds pass. Then Yuta says, "Well, if you hate it that much."

"I do," says Doyoung. "How the hell could I not? How could anyone not? So please, Yuta, just leave me alone."

Before Yuta can say anything else, Doyoung storms away to find and break a clipboard.

 

 

Doyoung doesn't have a lot of friends.

That sounds bad. But the truth is, Doyoung doesn't have much time for friends. On the rare occasions he manages to find time to meet up with someone or make it to a social gathering, a wedding-related emergency frequently arises and forces him to cancel at the last minute. Doyoung isn't the best at setting up boundaries between "times that it's acceptable to be consumed by my job" and "times I really need to put aside to live my own life and preserve my sanity", and it seems like the first one always encroaches on the second one. And after so many times of being bailed on, Doyoung's friends have become a lot less understanding and equally less willing to set up plans with him. 

Maybe the more accurate assessment is "not willing at all".

One of his few remaining friends is Ten, a fellow wedding planner. Getting their schedules to align and remain aligned is a nearly impossible task, but it's worth it. Ten understands Doyoung's struggles both in his professional and his personal lives, and is extremely tolerant of their plans frequently ending in a _sorry, something came up_ text (he and Doyoung are equally guilty of it). Ten, however, still manages to remain a social butterfly. Doyoung has no idea how he does it. 

Doyoung meets up with Ten on Wednesday afternoon at a wedding expo, because they can both justify it as reasonably job-related and therefore productive. The thought of seeing anything else wedding-related during what is supposed to be his free time almost makes Doyoung curl up on the floor of the giant hotel event hall and die, but it's made so much better by Ten's sunshine smile. 

"Doyoung!" Ten waves frantically at him as he enters the room. This isn't the biggest wedding expo Doyoung's been to recently — it's a fairly small and manageable size, relatively — but it's still alarmingly simple to get lost in a wedding expo within seconds. Thankfully, Ten knows this from experience and has placed himself next to a table close to the door. It has a macaron tower on it. Doyoung can appreciate that. He rushes over to the table before anyone can trample him in the doorway, and is immediately pulled into a tight hug by Ten. "I missed you a lot!"

"I missed you too," Doyoung says, muffled by Ten's neck. "I missed you so much." 

The feeling of Ten separating from him is what Doyoung thinks it must feel like for a squid having an octopus detached from it. Ten is a very affectionate person. 

"Here, they're giving out samples," Ten says, and plucks a macaron and a business card off the nearby table. He puts the macaron in Doyoung's hand, and almost puts the business card in his mouth. "— Oh, wait. Here we go," he corrects, and reverses the order. As soon as they've been put in the proper locations, Ten takes Doyoung by the arm and begins to lead him down the first line of tables. "Okay, so what have you been up to? How are things going? It's been a while since we've caught up." 

"Well, first of all, Nightmare Client _finally_ tied the knot," Doyoung says. 

Ten smiles in delight. He's very familiar with the details of that particular slice of hell, as it's been the source of plenty of Doyoung's venting. He turns to the next table they've approached and takes two small plastic glasses of champagne off the sample tray, along with the requisite business cards that serve as their pass to the samples. He hands one of the glasses to Doyoung and taps it with his own in a toast. "Congratulations! You're free!" 

"From _her_ ," Doyoung sighs, downing the champagne. He wrinkles his nose. It's a little too bubbly for his tastes. "Busy season isn't over yet."

"Oh, but the end is in sight! And I can't wait," Ten replies, almost dreamily. Ten, for unknown reasons, thrives on the chaos of the summer busy season. This means he generally has three or four weddings during each of the months from May to August, capitalising on the higher fees summer weddings usually demand at the expense of every aspect of his health. Doyoung admires him, but thinks he's absolutely insane. "I'm managing very well this year, though. Two days ago I got four hours of sleep, and I plan to get five tomorrow night, so my schedule is pretty balanced." 

"You're ridiculous," Doyoung says. "If I stayed awake for three days straight, you'd yell at me." 

"Of course," Ten says cheerfully. "I just want the best for you." 

It's true. Ten is sincere, and has one of the purest hearts Doyoung knows of. Ten probably wants the best for Doyoung more than Doyoung wants the best for Doyoung. They pass a violinist playing something that sounds far too mournful for a wedding, but Ten seems to be enjoying it nonetheless. When they're far enough away from the noise, he turns back to Doyoung. "So how are your current weddings going? Any disasters? Crazy clients?" 

"Okay, well, there's this asshole," Doyoung begins. "He's not even part of the couple. He's just in the wedding party and uses that as an excuse to always go everywhere and bother me."

"That's the worst," Ten says sympathetically, and places a cube of cheese in Doyoung's mouth. Doyoung really appreciates Ten; he's the best at snagging all the samples. "It's like, why are you even here?"

"Exactly!" Doyoung replies emphatically. "I swear he _exists_ to piss me off. He rips apart everything I say, he keeps calling me pointless, he talks about me behind my back, and, oh, apparently he doesn't even feel like there's a problem with this." 

"Wow." Ten frowns. He puts a small plastic cup of wine in Doyoung's other hand, and sticks a business card into his pocket. "Just out of nowhere?"

"Yeah." Doyoung lets out a dramatic noise into the wine cup. "My only crime was existing, and doing it near him."

"I hate people like that. It's like, why all the negativity, you know? Positive energy is so much better. And when you drag someone else down with negative energy, you're really just dragging yourself down too." Ten nods wisely. "I'm sorry, Doyoung. He sounds awful. But with people like him, you just have to block them out and not let them shove a single bit of their negative energy onto you."

"Easier said than done. And, actually, it might be too late. Possibly past a point of no return." Doyoung spots a rubbish bin nearby, and points to it. "Oh, look, there he is now!" He collects the various cups and toothpicks and cookie crumbs they've accumulated to toss in the bin, then sighs happily. "It feels good to throw things at him."

"Let it all out," Ten says in the voice of a solemn psychologist, but belies the mock seriousness by muffling a laugh. As they resume their leisurely stroll, he tilts his head at Doyoung. "You said the situation might have gone past the point of no return. What do you mean by that?"

"I lost my temper at him a few days ago," Doyoung admits. A little defensively, he adds, "It was totally justified!" After getting an understanding nod from Ten, he continues, but deflates at the memory. "It was … really ugly though. I told him how much I hate him and that he was awful and everything. Or, kind of yelled it. I just couldn't do it anymore. So … I can't exactly go back in time and not tell him he's basically the worst person in the world, even though he really deserved it."

"Okay, that's not great. But everyone has a breaking point, and it's okay to reach it. You're only human, and humans have finite limits of bullshit tolerance." Ten takes Doyoung's hand and squeezes it. "But if you can't return from this point, you can still move on from it. If you can't go back, going forwards is your only option."

"Did you get that from a fortune cookie?" Doyoung asks.

"No," Ten replies. "It's too long to fit on the little pieces of paper." 

In the corner before their next turn, there are several mannequins with wedding dresses on them. Doyoung and Ten both stop to appreciate them; they're gorgeous and flowy with a tasteful amount of sparkle, and Doyoung likes them. He sees some truly garish gowns in his line of work, and witnessing some understated and simple ones is a relief to his eyes. There are thin catalogues on the table the dresses are stood behind, and they take one to inadvisably flip through while walking. 

"You know, this might actually be a good thing," Ten remarks, folding down the corner on a page bearing a particularly stylish short dress. "Maybe this will actually get across the seriousness of the situation to him. It's possible he didn't know how much he was bothering you, but … he definitely will now. Who knows, you might even get an apology from him."

"Not bloody likely." Doyoung manages to tug Ten to the side just in time to avoid a collision with several musicians carrying large instrument cases. "He'll probably just double down on making my life hell." 

"That's a possibility," Ten admits, and folds down the corner on another page. He's folded the corner of every page so far. "Still, don't rule out the chance that this could turn things around. I'm not saying you should extend an olive branch to him — actually, I think you shouldn't, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to take one from him even if you were drowning. But you know very well how much a bad relationship with someone in the wedding party can make everything suck. So if you do somehow get a chance to make peace, don't think of it as doing it for him. Think of it as doing it for yourself." 

"Ugh. Stop being sensible," Doyoung groans. With Ten's hands occupied, he takes over the role of sample snagger and grabs them bite-size pieces of a wedding cake. "It doesn't matter, though. He's never going to do it. I don't think he _wants_ to get along. This just seems fun for him. I doubt he even thinks he's done anything wrong, let alone is willing to admit it." 

"Just keep an open mind. And if he doubles down, just call me and we'll figure something out." Ten closes the catalogue and gives Doyoung a nefarious smile. Doyoung likes where Ten's mind is probably going. Ten is one of the most diplomatic and sneakily shady people he knows. It's a great combination in a wedding planner, and an even better combination in a friend.

"I love you," Doyoung says. "And I love ruining people's lives with you."

"I know, and I love you too. But I like fixing your life more." Ten laces his fingers with Doyoung's and squeezes comfortingly. By now they've made their way around the whole expo, and have reached their starting point in front of the door. Doyoung feels a profound sense of disappointment. As of now, his justifiable excuse to escape everything else in his life has officially ended. And so, sadly, has his time with Ten. 

"Even if you don't need to ruin someone's life, call me anyway," Ten tells him. "Preferably between the hours of 1AM and 4AM. That's usually my free time. And keep me updated on how this plays out. I'll let you get back to your life now, and I'm going to go make an appointment to try on some dresses at that bridal shop. I'll send you pictures."

With that, Ten weaves back into the crowd. Doyoung steps outside, cringes at the sun and tries to imagine the wild fantasy world in which Ten's forgiveness scenario might actually play out.

 

 

The universe continues to take Doyoung's prayers for a stress-free August, crumple them up and throw them directly in his face. After a rehearsal dinner filled with ominous foreshadowing, the day of Bobby and Hanbin's wedding is an absolute nightmare.

Doyoung has something he calls the Masterlist of Disasters. This is a list of all the things that could possibly go wrong on the day of a wedding, ranging from the common sense options to the absolute freaks of nature. The list is created from hypotheticals, other people's experiences and his own long career filled with various miseries. The list is a work in progress. Bobby and Hanbin's wedding day checks at least half the boxes, and provides some new and fresh hells to add to the list.

The day begins with rain. Rain that was on no forecast at any point in the past two weeks, up until the minute it started. Through the torrential downpour and onslaught of wind, Doyoung scrambles to come up with a solution to salvage the outdoor wedding from the minor league equivalent of a hurricane. Even worse, all the flowers have already been set up, so Doyoung is left panicking and calling in numerous favours to get new ones at the absolute last minute. He just barely manages, but his Favours Receivable account is now running low and he's going to regret that during his next major disaster that arises. Still, he pulls it off. 

The generally agreed upon solution is to move the wedding into the reception hall. Doyoung tries frantically to direct traffic as the set-up for the reception is all shoved to the side to make room for half of the dripping wet wedding set-up to be dragged in, and then as the two are fused together into a half-wedding half-reception bastard child that is vaguely navigable but still incredibly strange looking. Still, it's a practical solution and it will get the job done. It makes everything hell for everyone with a job to do besides sitting down in a seat and not being a terrible guest, but it's better than everyone drowning. 

Surprising absolutely no one, the caterer arrives late and doesn't bring enough food. Doyoung makes a mental note to _definitely_ get all of their money back as soon as this is over, and then sets about trying to make sure half the guests won't starve. He and some of the catering staff redo the plate proportions and arrangements in a way that ensures everyone will have a meal. A much smaller one, admittedly, but one nonetheless.

There isn't a runaway groom, mercifully, but there's something one step away. The best man gets cold feet, and Doyoung is left trying to reason with him through a bathroom stall door. Jinhwan doesn't seem too convinced by Doyoung's assurances that no, he's not losing his best friends, he's just … probably going to spend less time with them from now on and slowly become pushed into the background of their coupled lives, but that's okay, because it's the circle of life. He finally manages to coax Jinhwan out by promising it that one day, he too will find someone to shut himself off from his friend circles and grow removed from his social life with. 

By the time the actual wedding kicks off, Doyoung is so far into the focus zone that he no longer remembers what it was like to be present in reality; he's entirely in the world of the wedding. Everything else fades away as he dashes around changing plans and redirecting everyone and somehow getting the most disorganised wedding he has ever experienced to not fall apart when every single thing they had planned has now completely changed without any time to update those involved and relay contingency plans. But somehow he manages to pull everything together well enough for Bobby and Hanbin to end up at the end of the aisle in front of the officiant, trying to decipher the runny ink on the soggy pieces of paper that were once their vows. 

Doyoung cringes. This should have been the logistically simplest part of the wedding. Of course not even this would work out. 

Hanbin looks at the paper with his vow and struggles to get anything from it, unable to read it and unable to remember it. Finally, he crumples it up and tosses it on the floor. "I wrote you some words, but they don't matter," he says. "What matters is how I feel about you, and you know how I feel about you. So, are we good?" 

"Yeah, we're good." Bobby grins, then crumples up his vow as well and throws it on the floor besides Hanbin's. "Man, today's been a disaster, huh? But it's cool, because it's a disaster we're going through _together_. We can laugh our asses off about it for the rest of our lives. You know how I feel about you too, so hey, let's try to feel like that forever."

Watching them, Doyoung feels like a weird emptiness. It's strange, because he never feels like this at weddings, and he's been through so many of them that almost nothing can affect him. He wants to blame the emotional vulnerability and exhaustion from everything that's gone today, but it feels like something more than that. Even with everything that's gone wrong, this couple is happy just because they have each other. And they've laid that all bare in this completely raw and open display of a sincerity and tenderness that goes straight to Doyoung's heart. And there, it turns into a painful longing. His life is a disconnected stream of chaos, short-term connections, stress and emotional isolation despite a constant flurry of interaction with other humans. God, he's not going to cry, he is _not_. 

"Forever sounds good," says Hanbin, and stands on his tiptoes to kiss Bobby. When he pulls away he's crying, and, great, the floodgates have been opened. Doyoung is really hoping he doesn't ruin what's left of his rain-damaged eyeliner. Bobby gently wipes Hanbin's tears at the same time Doyoung is pawing at his face while trying not to smear his makeup everywhere, and the contrast is really, really sad. 

Doyoung doesn't even know what he's turning into lately. Apparently it's something that clings to vestiges of professionalism, intermittently tosses composure out the window, fixates obsessively on the worst attractive person he's ever met and has emotional breakdowns over a display of romance he witnesses all the fucking time. He just wants to go home and sleep for a week. And then for another week after that. Repeat for the rest of eternity.

"Okay, I guess this is the part where I say you may now kiss the groom, but you already did that," says the officiant, Yunhyeong. He sniffles too, subtly wiping his eyes. Maybe they should've let this wedding continue in the rain, considering that it's raining on all of their faces. "I now pronounce you husbands — oh, wait, heck, you didn't say I do, right?" 

"... Yeah. We didn't."

"Oh, wow, I forgot to ask if you take each other in marriage. I just kind of assumed. Those were really touching speeches. So, um, do you do that?" 

"I do," says Bobby.

"I do," says Hanbin. 

"Thanks for catching that mistake. That would have been really awkward when we eventually figured out that you weren't actually married," Yunhyeong says. "I was just going off memory here. The ceremony checklist they sent me on the website I got my certificate from got melted in the rain." 

Yep, Doyoung saw that coming.

"Okay, great! You're married! Now kiss again, and let's move some tables," Yunhyeong says.

Doyoung is still trying to get his bearings, but before he can jump back in, everything starts to come together. He stands back and watches it happen. Amazingly, the wedding guests all start pushing chairs against the wall and dragging tables around, moving the furniture into reasonable places even without formal instructions. The caterers bring out the tiny artistically arranged portions of food, which actually look very hip due to the trend amongst fancy restaurants to charge their patrons an exorbitant amount of money for three bites of something. None of the flowers have fallen from where Doyoung, in desperation, affixed them to the wall with duct tape. The romantic music transitions into hard-hitting hip hop concurrently with the strobe lights beginning. It's incredible watching the wheels he put into motion actually carry this disaster forwards into something that _works._

And Doyoung thinks, it's going to be okay. If he could deal with this, then he can deal with whatever happens next in his mess of a life. Maybe he really will survive until the end of August after all.

 

 

With three days left to go until the end of this hellish month, Doyoung ends up hauling himself all the way out to Johnny and Taeyong's chosen venue again. Part of him clings onto the beautiful thought that maybe Yuta won't want to show his disgusting stunning face anywhere near Doyoung after everything that went down last time, but the rest of him knows there's no way in hell that dream will actually come true. At this point, he should probably just let go of all those flights of fancy and accept that he's going to have to put up with Yuta until the wedding happens or one of them dies. 

It's a soul-numbing déjà vu. Doyoung gives himself a half-assed pep talk, drags himself out of his car, forces a smile and makes his way onto the grounds to Johnny, Taeyong and their unbearable parasite. He exchanges smiles and greetings with the lovely couple, and makes a vague comment about the pleasantness of the location. And then he looks at Yuta. 

This is the part where everything becomes unfamiliar. Doyoung really doesn't know what will happen now. The options run the range from Yuta attempting to murder him, to grovelling at his feet, to maintaining the status quo and acting as if absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. They meet each other's eyes for a long moment.

And then Yuta says, "I'm glad you could take time out of your busy storm-chasing schedule to be here. I'm assuming that's what you were doing, based on your hair."

Option three it is. Doyoung's not sure if he's relieved, disappointed or filled with a sense of profound futility. 

"I got the final draft of the contract you emailed over this morning. It looks good. I appreciate the extra provisions you slipped into it," Johnny says. "Are you really sure they agreed to, uh, move the whole wedding into the nearest castle if a hurricane spontaneously begins?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. I buried it in a chunk of legalese so dense and pointless they didn't even notice it. You're perfectly fine." Doyoung gives them a winning smile. "So let's decide on your final set-up, make a list of everything I need to get you for it and then go sign a totally not sneaky and purposely incomprehensible contract." 

Compared to their previous meeting, this one runs with relative ease. It has less hypotheticals and more decision making and solidification of practical details, which is a combination that makes Doyoung feel like he's really accomplishing things. He likes having concrete evidence that processes are, in fact, moving forwards. It also has less of Yuta's attitude. It's not a drastic reduction by any account, but being able to count Yuta's rude remarks on two hands instead of four is a decent step. Yuta makes it clear, however, that this is nothing to do with a decreased belief in the stupidity of Doyoung's opinions; rather, it's that he finds the technicalities far too boring to not zone out of for the majority of the time.

"Sorry if I'm boring you on this totally optional excursion that nobody forced you to come on," Doyoung tells him, and then tries to follow Ten's advice and simply play white noise in his ears whenever Yuta speaks. 

By the time they wrap the main part of their meeting up, Doyoung has an extensive list of things to do, items to obtain and logistics to arrange. With the end of busy season so close he can taste it, the list actually doesn't send him careening over the edge into stress-induced insanity. Overall, it's not too bad.

The four of them end up in the same place they parted ways the last time, in front of the hedge maze. The feeling of déjà vu creeps up on Doyoung again, and then proceeds to all crash down upon him when Johnny pats him on the shoulder. "You have a lot to work on, so we'll let you get to it," Johnny says. "We'll take all the stuff from the contract from here, so you can head out whenever you want. Great to see you, as always."

"Oh, okay —" Doyoung says, from inside a sudden hug from Taeyong. And then alarmingly quickly, they're walking away from him. Walking away from _him and Yuta_ , leaving him abandoned and helpless with no one around to hear him scream. God, this really needs to stop happening. He loves Johnny and Taeyong, but their habit of leaving him temporarily alone in places with Yuta is going to be the death of him. "Um, goodbye, I guess?" he says, pitifully, to their disappearing backs.

That's it. Doyoung has to get out of here, and he has to get out of here _now_ , before Yuta has a chance to decide whether he wants to interact with Doyoung and actually do it. Because if experience has shown Doyoung anything, it's that Yuta absolutely will, and Doyoung is eager to avoid that. He can see his car in the distance, and he calculates that maybe at a dead sprint he can reach it in — 

"Can I talk to you?" Yuta asks, and, hell. Doyoung probably should have spent less time calculating and just skipped straight to sprinting. 

"No. I don't want to talk to you. Ever," Doyoung says. 

Yuta rolls his eyes and takes Doyoung by the arm, and pulls him into the hedge maze. Doyoung yelps and flails, trying to struggle out of Yuta's grasp, but Yuta is incredibly strong. Well, at least by comparison to Doyoung, who is not very strong. But before Doyoung can yell for help to the absolutely no one around to hear him, Yuta already has him inside the maze and around one of the endless corners. Great, Doyoung is going to die in a fucking bush. He opens his mouth to go off on Yuta for being a kidnapper and a probable murderer and an all-around terrible person, but Yuta cuts him off. 

"Hear me out," Yuta says. Every bone in Doyoung's body resists the idea, but something in Yuta's tone keeps him from immediately making a run for it the second Yuta lets go of his arm. Yuta looks a little more subdued than usual, or even a few minutes ago, and Doyoung raises an eyebrow. "Look. You're annoying, and you think I'm annoying, but we're stuck together until Taeyong and Johnny get those rings on their fingers. In _nine months_. So we can spend the whole time yelling at each other to go to hell and shove our fucking attitudes up our asses on the way there, or not. I don't care either way, but it kinda seems like you might." 

Doyoung tries to force any expression off his face. He doesn't want to care. He doesn't want Yuta to know he cares. And he definitely doesn't want to hear Yuta tell him that he knows he cares. But damn it all, Doyoung cares. 

Yuta gives Doyoung a tentative smile, and then says, "I guess what I'm asking is … want to get along?"

"No," Doyoung says instinctively, giving Yuta a petulant glare. "Maybe if you were sorry for being a dick to me, but you're not."

"How do you know? Maybe I am." 

"I know because you haven't said it." Doyoung looks at Yuta almost pityingly, and shakes his head. "It's okay. I figured you weren't even capable of that. I wouldn't expect that much from you."

Doyoung turns away, because at this point, he's said all that needs to be said. He can see a glimmer of daylight coming around the corner from the entrance to the hedge maze, like a light at the end of a very imposing and leafy tunnel. He's really starting to hate this place. But right before he can take a step towards it, Yuta says, "I'm sorry." 

"What?" Doyoung turns around sharply. 

"You heard me. I said it." Yuta is smirking, toying with a rose between his fingers. He must have picked it up from the ground, which is littered with roses just passing their peak. He's avoided the thorns again, the bastard. "I guess your expectations were wrong, huh?" 

"Don't push it." 

Doyoung eyes Yuta suspiciously, running through some intro level social game theory in his head. There's a chance Yuta's being honest, and a chance he's going to laugh and say, _got you! You think I'd actually waste an apology on you?_ Doyoung won't know which it will be until he makes his move, and the potential for humiliation in each outcome varies widely. If he responds to the apology as if it's sincere, it would be all too easy for Yuta to flip the tables on him and make him look like an idiot. But if he throws it back in Yuta's face, it's possible he could be throwing away his chance to make the next three quarters of a year suck a little bit less. 

_Keep an open mind_ , he hears Ten's voice saying. _Don't rule out the chance that this could turn things around_. 

"Are you _actually_ sorry?"

"Yes." 

_Think of it as doing it for yourself_ , Ten's voice says. 

"Fine." Doyoung gives Yuta a scrutinising look. "But it's not that easy. You can't just say sorry and then whatever, it's forgotten. You have to stop being an asshole. You have to stop being condescending. You have to stop talking shit about me — yes, I know about that, and I'd find out again. And you have to stop saying I don't do anything, because I work my ass off, and if you're going to be sorry then you don't get to disrespect me."

"I can't promise on the asshole part," Yuta admits, with a sheepish smile. "But for everything else, you have a deal." 

After an extended stretch of silence, Doyoung says, "Okay." 

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay. We'll get along." Doyoung looks directly into Yuta's eyes, channeling every ounce of threat he can muster into a warning glare. "But if you piss me off again, all bets are off."

"Got it," says Yuta. He steps forwards and places his rose in Doyoung's hand. Doyoung just barely avoids getting pricked with the thorns. 

There's an expression Doyoung hasn't seen before on Yuta's antagonising, gorgeous face. It's full of sincerity and lacking in animosity. He's surprised to feel a similar expression on his own face. It's strange, it's all very strange, and Doyoung doesn't know how to feel about it yet. Or how long it's even going to last. But nonetheless, he looks down at the rose in his hand and smiles, then back up at Yuta. Yuta gives him a smile in return. And slowly, they walk out into the sunlight together.


	4. T-9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's been forever since i've updated this!! work/life/everything has been really crazy. i wrote this chapter almost entirely on my phone while commuting, travelling and moving, so i hope it's not too disjointed. thank you very much to subscribers and my wonderful recipient for your patience. a lot of plot elements are introduced or elaborated on in this chapter, so the next one will be shorter, i promise!

**T-9**

Nine o'clock on a Thursday night, and Doyoung is fielding Johnny and Taeyong's questions about his Professional Guest List Opinions while trying to make tonight's package of sad microwave noodles a little less sad. He's experimenting with an assortment of exorbitantly priced spices, various garnishes and mysterious vegetables, none of which he actually knows how to utilise. Somehow, this futile attempt just makes the whole culinary situation seem even sadder.

"So of course we don't want anyone to feel left out, and we definitely don't want to create any problems with office politics or family dynamics, but we've still got space and budget to consider. It's a tricky situation," Taeyong is saying from Doyoung's kitchen counter. They have each other on speakerphone — Taeyong so Johnny can hear, and Doyoung so he has both hands free for his cookery endeavour. Doyoung turns his attention back to the phone, and away from poking an unidentifiable green sprout with a chopstick. 

"Yeah, of course. Those are very common and legitimate concerns," Doyoung says, with sympathy. He's certainly seen some guest list creation processes take ugly, ugly turns. "But don't worry, I'm here to guide you through it." Even as Doyoung reassures them of his competence, he shakes a bottle of an extremely common spice in total bewilderment. 

Doyoung had come home from a very awkward meeting with the officiant for his February wedding couple, Krystal and Kai, to find Ten had used his copy of Doyoung's key to put a large paper bag full of the aforementioned items and a note in his empty refrigerator. The note read, scrawled in purple pen across several of Doyoung's favourite sticky notes: _hey babe! my date last night was going to cook for me, but i forgot to buy the rest of the food, so we just skipped to dessert and the "main event" if you know what i mean ;) i brought these here because you need to EAT MORE!!! love you, xoxo, ten <3_. Doyoung has three thoughts about it. One, he would probably hate Ten's stupidly perfect love and sex life if he didn't love Ten so much. Two, only Ten would sign a note with both "love you" and "xoxo". Third, he has no fucking clue what to do with any of this stuff. 

"First of all, you need to set a maximum number of guests and stick to it. Don't be swayed from that number under any circumstances. That's the simplest way to keep your guest list in check. It might seem harsh, but having to make trade-offs will force you to prioritise." Doyoung adds a few unevenly sliced chunks of a purple vegetable to the noodles, which have already been in and out of the microwave twice. Maybe that's too much. "Essentially, this is all about prioritising."

"We can do that," Johnny agrees.

"What's the etiquette for inviting co-workers?" Taeyong asks. "Who should we invite? Or, rather, who should we _not_ invite?" 

This is one of those questions that sits on the border between "key responsibility of a wedding planner to answer" and "something that should just be searched online". Depending on the client, it might make Doyoung roll his eyes. However, he adores Johnny and Taeyong. He knows they're asking out of a genuine desire to spare the feelings of as many people in their lives as possible. And, as sad is it might be, he really wants them to continue talking to him right now. It's nice to have a pleasant phone conversation with people whose company he enjoys while he's cooking alone in his depressingly quiet flat. It's almost like having friends.

"It varies a lot depending on the workplace and your relationship with your co-workers and boss," Doyoung answers. He reaches over to put his seasoned and vegetable-ridden noodles back in the microwave and knocks over a bottle of a mysterious spice, sending it scattering all over the kitchen counter. He'll definitely be finding dustings of reddish-brown powder in random places for the next month. "Johnny, in your case, it's a good job you get along with everyone in your workplace. Since your company is so small and everyone is aware of your wedding, your choices would be to invite everyone, invite no one or invite only half the company and create severe awkwardness and offence. That's a really sticky situation you're lucky to avoid." Johnny is the head of marketing at a ten-employee tech start-up, and Doyoung can only imagine how uncomfortable that open-plan office space would become if Johnny took the pick-and-choose approach to his wedding guests. 

"Okay, great. All on the list," Johnny says. "So that's ten down." 

"Taeyong, you have a little more leeway on who to invite, but just as much of a social minefield. Sorry." Taeyong works in HR at a mid-size firm, so maintaining amicable social dynamics is a key part of his job. "You should invite your boss. For co-workers, apply the five year rule or the open environment rule: is this someone you could see as part of your life in five years, or is this someone you would spend time with if you weren't pushed together as co-workers? Again, be aware of the fixed number limitations."

"Thank you," says Taeyong. "That does help narrow it down." 

Doyoung is pleased to be of assistance. He's also pleased when the microwave dings, informing him that his noodles are ready to be garnished. However, he's less pleased when he actually sees the state they're in. He prods at them in confusion. Half of the noodles have become disconnected tendrils floating free in the strangely-coloured broth, and the other half still look as dry and entangled as when he dumped them out of the plastic package and into his one clean bowl. Is his microwave broken? Doyoung's had the thing for approximately forever, and it's taken quite a beating from continuous overuse. Doyoung wouldn't be surprised if it's finally given up the ghost. He wouldn't want to live its life either. 

"Your parents should also get a few invites so they can bring some of their friends. You'll have to work that number out with them, but remember it's a special day for them too and they've got people they want to celebrate with as well." Doyoung grabs a sprig of parsley, tosses it into the bowl for garnish and sticks the bowl back into the microwave. He just takes a wild guess on what to set the cooking time for, because apparently the functioning of this appliance is completely arbitrary now. Actually, are you supposed to put parsley on something before or after you cook it? Doyoung has no idea. 

"Before if it's for flavour, after if it's for garnish," Taeyong replies from the phone. "Oh, are you cooking?" 

"Oh no, I said that out loud," Doyoung says, out loud. "No. Yes. Kind of. I'm not sure if this counts." He probably gets points off the respectability of this pursuit because he did, in fact, put the garnish parsley in before cooking it further. Trying to get off the topic, he continues, "Have you got the extended family invitations situation sorted?" 

"We have," says Johnny. 

Doyoung lets out a sigh of relief, then retracts it as he peers into the microwave. He can't tell what's going on in there. "You're in a great position, then. That's usually the worst part. I've witnessed the last interaction between family members on several occasions." 

Johnny laughs. "I'm glad we're in a good place, then. I definitely wouldn't enjoy breaking up my family." 

"No, it's really not fun," Doyoung says absentmindedly. He follows this up with a mental slap to the face. Depending on his tone, he's either dropped a deep and painful revelation that will make the conversation extremely awkward, or made a general comment based on his professional observations. He doesn't remember what his tone was. Quickly, he continues. "Right, so, speaking of additional invites, you should usually restrict your plus-ones to people who are married or in long-term relationships. Exceptions could be made for someone in a relatively new relationship, but you know their partner as well and you could see it getting serious. Basically, you don't want wedding photos full of people's random flings."

"Sound advice," says Johnny. Doyoung is relieved to note the lack of a missed beat and the normalcy in his voice. It must have been a "general observation" tone, then. He's glad _that_ potential conversational disaster was averted. The hum of the microwave is peaceful. 

"Yes, that seems fair," Taeyong agrees. "But of course you can have a plus one if you want." 

"Don't worry, I'm not going to need it," Doyoung says, yet again without thinking, and then delivers himself another internal smack to the face. "I mean, um, I'm the planner, so I'll be busy doing my job. Well, also, nobody is willing to date me. But mostly it's because of the job." 

"Don't say that," Taeyong says, in what is probably intended to be a comforting tone of voice but sounds tinged with pity to the part of Doyoung's brain that is eager to project his own insecurities onto other people's actions. "You have so much to offer people. Of course you'll find someone willing to date you."

"Oh, that must be Doyoung," Yuta's voice says in the background, slightly faded but unfortunately still audible. "You know, a white lie is only kind if it's believable." 

"Okay, Yuta, shove your unnecessary comments up your —" Doyoung begins, and is cut off by the beep of the microwave. He frowns at it, personally affronted by its censorship, and yanks the door open a little too hard. He retrieves the bowl with a ragged dish towel, and braces himself to see what state its contents are in.

"Are you back _again_?" Johnny is saying on the other end of the phone. "Yuta, you need to go home. You've been in and out of here since 8AM. I'm going to take your key away." 

"Johnny's right. Go home and sleep," Taeyong's voice adds. "Please. You are _not_ passing out on our sofa again. Or our floor." 

"Ugh, fine. If you really want to suck the fun out of your responsible domestic lives, I'll go home. Just let me pack up and talk to Doyoung, and then I'll go."

The current state of his meal confuses Doyoung. The noodles finally seem to have separated, but in return, the vegetables have formed an unidentifiable blob. Things Doyoung didn't think it was scientifically possible to fuse have fused, the spices have mixed together into a colour that they shouldn't be able to combine into and the parsley is floating on top completely dry and raw. There is no part of this that should be physically able to occur. However, the idea that Yuta would actually want to talk to him causes a confusion far greater than how his cookery seems to have defied the laws of nature. 

" _Me_?" Doyoung asks. It comes out as a squeak. 

"Well, you're Doyoung," Johnny confirms.

Yes, Doyoung is. He is also suspicious. He can't think of a motive behind Yuta's desire to converse with him that isn't sinister. This scepticism is supported by the fact that Yuta has already begun roasting him. This is a situation Doyoung's not sure he wants to subject himself to while maintaining the fragile illusion that there are people who like him. However, he did agree to give this Getting Along With Yuta thing a try, and so he might as well make an attempt at tolerating whatever words Yuta wants to force into his ears. 

"If you don't want to talk to Yuta, we can just tell him to go away," Johnny offers. 

"No, it's okay. I'll talk to him."

"Well, if you're sure." 

An extended sequence of paper shuffling begins, followed by a crash and several clinks of glass. Doyoung doesn't want an explanation. In the meantime, he eyes the remaining ingredients in continuing befuddlement. Do parmesan cheese and cilantro mix? Actually, is cilantro the one that's straight from hell, or is that oregano? It might be cilantro.

"It's cilantro," says Taeyong.

Doyoung makes a mental note to thoroughly examine his apparently defective brain-to-mouth filter. "Thank you," he says in quiet shame, and bins the cilantro.

"Hi, Doyoung," Yuta's voice greets him smoothly. "What common sense are you overcharging the lovely couple to impart upon them today?" 

Doyoung frowns at his phone. "I'll tell them for free to get rid of you." 

"I'm kidding," says Yuta, and Doyoung is surprised to discover Yuta has a really sweet laugh when he actually _is_ kidding. It's a strange discovery. "How have you been since the last time you yelled at me inside foliage?"

"Well, I'm alive," Doyoung says, because that's the best he's got. "How have you been?"

"Also alive," Yuta confirms, but with a note of teasing in his voice. "Did you eat yet?" 

"I'm making lunch now. I think." Doyoung sounds uncertain, and for a very good reason. The standards for something to qualify as an actual meal are that it has to be food, and it has to be edible. Looking into the bowl, Doyoung can't really confirm that it's either. He's been poking aimlessly at it throughout their conversation, too afraid to stir due to a fear that putting joules of energy into it might bring it to life. "I can't really cook."

"Lunch?" Yuta snorts. "It's 9PM. Aren't you meant to be a master of scheduling?"

"It was a busy day," Doyoung says defensively. That's a major understatement. In addition to the meeting with Kai and Krystal's officiant he had to go bridesmaid dress shopping with a March bride named Yuju, suffer through three conference calls with various vendors, solve a flower-related catastrophe and yell at yet another caterer. He was actually proud of himself for managing to scrounge up a handful of cereal for breakfast.

"Well, take care of yourself." There's no hint of sarcasm or insincerity in Yuta's voice, and it's odd. Doyoung tries to pick up on any more subtle subtext telling him to drop dead, and bafflingly, finds none. In the background, someone clears their throat, and Yuta sighs. "I'm being cruelly evicted from the lovely couple's quiet and fun-deficient home, so goodbye for now." 

"Okay. Goodbye," says Doyoung, and stands there for several moments blinking at the phone. In the background, a container of za'atar spontaneously topples to the floor. 

Yuta seems to be making an effort to hold their truce, and it's weird. Doyoung's not exactly opposed to it, because the less of a pain in the ass Yuta is the better, but it feels very, very weird. It's only now he realises this whole time he's been holding a block of parmesan cheese. He blinks at it too, unsure how that slipped his mind. He switches the Poking Chopsticks out for a cheese grater. Now that he thinks about it, he picked up and lost track of the cheese somewhere around Yuta's beautiful laugh. Unceremoniously, he grates his finger. 

"Well, that was a nice conversation," Taeyong's voice says through the phone speaker, and Doyoung tries to make a noise of assent that conveys _yes it was_ and not _oh my god my finger is bleeding_. "I'm glad the two of you are getting along a little better."

"Well, for now," Doyoung half-mutters, squeezing his bleeding finger in a paper towel. He wants to blame this on Yuta, but he's not sure how to do that in a way that doesn't acknowledge distraction by Yuta's stupid beautiful laugh. "I wish it happened without me, um, yelling at him in foliage. He's apparently capable of being nice to me, so I don't know why he couldn't just do that in the first place." 

A twenty second pause elapses, and then Johnny says, "Is Yuta gone?"

"Yes, he's gone," Taeyong's voice answers. 

"Like, fully outside, door closed and locked behind him?" 

"Yes. Totally gone." 

"Okay," says Johnny. Then, "Doyoung, can we video chat you?"

 _No_ , Doyoung internally screams. He's here in his pajamas and a ragged oversized sweatshirt, bare-faced and messy-haired and bloody-fingered, surrounded by a huge mess of incompetence and a pitiful microwaved bastardisation of something a real adult might cook. And Perfect Johnny And Taeyong, with their spotless flat and gourmet-level culinary skills and orderly lives, would be witnessing this. Doyoung makes such an effort to seem put-together, moderately stylish and reasonably okay at being a human being, and that exhaustively curated image would be dashed to hell. But then again, at the rate his life is going, they were going to see through the facade soon. It's entirely possible they already have. And at the rate his pride is being shattered, he might not care in a week or two anyway. "Sure. Okay," Doyoung says, and braces himself to be kindly judged and compassionately pitied. 

Doyoung answers the video call with an impending sense of inadequacy. Sure enough, Johnny and Taeyong look as attractive and cheerful and alive as usual, and have achieved the perfect selfie angle for both of them. Doyoung holds his phone up in the general vicinity of his face, and struggles to find a camera angle that gets as few of the holes in his sweatshirt and as little of the cooking mess covering the entire kitchen in the frame as possible.

"Hi, Doyoung!" Taeyong says, in a voice that can only be described as warm. Doyoung is at a loss for how a human being can be so pleasant. 

"Hi," Doyoung says, more quietly. He's managed to crop out most of the various disasters on and around him, but he can't figure out how to eat the monstrosity that is the noodles without them being visible onscreen. While letting them turn to freezing cold mush and eating them later seems on the surface to be the most pride-preserving option, it would be a bit awkward to faint from hunger on a video chat with his clients. As inconspicuously as possible, he shoves some of the noodles in his mouth and braces himself for whatever taste and texture they're going to have.

"Is that what you cooked?" Taeyong asks. "What did you make?"

 _A monster_ is the only reply that comes to mind. God, it's awful. It's so bad. It's half-undercooked half-overcooked noodles, a barrage of conflicting spices so intense it nearly deadens his taste buds and bits of strange vegetables of all kinds. It is also Doyoung's last pack of microwave noodles, and therefore the only remaining food in his flat, and he has rendered it nearly inedible. 

"Um," Doyoung says, and struggles valiantly not to choke. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah, we did," says Johnny. "It's probably long overdue, but it's not something we can talk about in front of Yuta. I'm sure you see the problem with that."

Doyoung does. Yuta is the problem. Though the more polite way to put it is probably that Yuta's constant presence impedes some discussions. "Go on," Doyoung says, perhaps seeming a little too intrigued. Any topic that specifically can't be discussed in front of Yuta is one he's very interested in hearing. 

"Okay, well …" Johnny shares an entire conversation with Taeyong through Soulmate Telepathy in a few seconds, then turns back to Doyoung. "The thing about Yuta is, he tends to get a little … sensitive, when he feels like he's being encroached upon." 

"It's just how he is," Taeyong adds. "He used to be a lot worse, but it's something he's working through. I know it's not the easiest thing to deal with, but right now, it's something we have to bear with him on." 

Doyoung doesn't entirely get it. "Encroached upon …?" 

"Yuta can be, well, insecure about his place in things. If he feels like he's being pushed to the side, he doesn't take it well at all. Not that you did that," Taeyong quickly clarifies, holding up a placating hand. "It seems like what's happening is that Yuta saw his role in the planning of the wedding as being an important one, which it is, but he feels like he's being shoved out of it by someone else entering the picture. It's likely he expected to be very involved in the process, but when he saw everything being handed over to you ..."

Johnny finishes, "Knowing Yuta, he probably felt like we were replacing him."

"You still involve him," Doyoung points out. "All the time."

"Once he has it in his head, it's not easy to convince Yuta he's not being pushed aside," Taeyong says. His expression is a little sad. "It should be obvious how important he is to us, but he has a very fatalistic outlook on his importance to people."

"Oh," says Doyoung, and frowns.

"As a wedding planner, I'm sure you know we completely made up his title," Johnny says with a wry smile. "That was a way to provide him some affirmation after, uh, the whole best-man-choosing cock-up. Without some reassurance, Yuta can easily jump to the conclusion that people don't care about him, or that he doesn't belong somewhere. And if he's not secure in his place in something, he feels like he's being shoved out of it, and doesn't take that very well."

"Essentially," Taeyong says, "Yuta has some serious problems with feeling replaceable." 

"Oh," says Doyoung. Then, "Oh."

Doyoung takes a moment to process this, and Johnny and Taeyong let him have it. In the meantime, he eats another bite of disgusting noodles and mutilated vegetables and forces himself not to cringe. The cheese was a terrible addition. Doyoung can't believe he grievously wounded himself for _this_.

"So what you're saying," Doyoung finally says, "is that Yuta feels … _threatened_ by me?"

"Yes, in a way." Taeyong nods slowly. "Not you personally, but your role in all this, and what it might mean for him."

"I see." 

If he's honest, Doyoung isn't expecting to, but he … does. 

Two of Doyoung's greatest strengths and greatest moral failings are that he is undeniably petty and interested in being important. His interest in being the centre of attention has faded over time due to the entirety of his job being to help other people be the centre of attention, and his ability to suppress his innate pettiness has dramatically increased, but there's a not-so-small part of him that thrives on validation. One of his favourite parts of his career is knowing he's indispensable, and being told so on a regular basis. Doyoung remembers very clearly how he felt when, during the first celebrity wedding he worked on, he was forced to share a little more of his responsibilities and glory with the other team members than he was expecting. Thinking back on it, that feeling wasn't too different to what Yuta is currently feeling.

If Doyoung continues to be honest, he wanted to shove them out of the way. They weren't fitting into his mental image; it felt _wrong_. He didn't act on it, and certainly didn't become a cross between an ass and a snake, but a part of him deep down was screaming that they had to go, they were intruding, they were, well, _encroaching_ on his job. And on his limelight. Fast and hard, he's hit with an image of Yuta in his position instead. If he had the apparent lack of self-control and fragile self-worth of Yuta, he might have lashed out.

After a long time, Doyoung meets their eyes and says, "I guess I can understand that." 

"We're glad," Johnny replies.

"Jaehyun also told me that Yuta doesn't take a lot of the things he says very seriously," Doyoung continues. "Or that he doesn't necessarily mean them how they sound."

"There's that too," Taeyong says wryly. "Yuta can come across as very harsh, and I don't think he's always aware of that. There can be a bit of a disconnect between Yuta's idea of banter and other people's perception of it. So when that mixes with some genuine animosity, it's an unpleasant combination that you unfortunately fell right into the middle of." 

"We're really sorry about him, I want you to know," Johnny says. "We've been scolding him as best we can, so I hope it doesn't seem like we've been letting him slide. He just takes the scolding a lot better when it doesn't happen in front of you." 

_That_ Doyoung can definitely understand. Being publicly scolded by Johnny and Taeyong seems like it would probably feel like the moment when your friends are over and your parents come into your room to tell you off for some mistake you made earlier. Doyoung experienced that moment during every single one of the few times he was allowed to have friends over, and it was thoroughly humiliating. He's sure Johnny and Taeyong would be a lot less harsh and self-esteem-destroying than Doyoung's own parents, but the general concept would be the same.

"He's not a bad guy. He's really not," Taeyong says. "He can just be … difficult." 

Difficult is kind of an understatement. 

Doyoung still is not really a fan of Yuta. While Doyoung may be able to comprehend his motives, he was still wrong to act on them in the manner he did. His treatment of Doyoung was still unacceptable, and understanding it doesn't make Doyoung any more inclined to be lenient about it. But he can see how it wasn't, as he had been convinced, entirely out of nowhere. And this makes him feel a lot less horrible about it. 

"Thank you for telling me this," Doyoung says. "I really appreciate knowing. It makes me feel better to know that it's not actually about me, I was just in the wrong role at the wrong time. Or … it's not me, it's him." 

"Of course." Johnny laughs. Then, "Uh … this conversation never happened, though. We never said any of this, and please don't bring it up with him. It's for a good reason that he had to be far, far away during this discussion." 

"Noted," Doyoung says, and means it. He's stepped on enough Yuta-emotions-related minefields within the past few months. The last thing he wants to do is step on _this_ one. 

"So we'll see you next week?" Taeyong asks.

"Yes, next week," Doyoung confirms. 

"Great. Have a good night," Johnny says. Doyoung looks at them all snuggled up together, probably ready to curl up in bed and whisper sweet nothings to each other or whatever it is that people disgustingly in love do, and feels a little pang in his chest.

"Good night!" Taeyong echoes, with a little wave, and ends the call. 

Doyoung's flat suddenly feels very dark and quiet. He tries to put another bite of the noodle abomination in his mouth, and gags violently. He can't do it. It's too awful. He spits it out, dumps the noodles in the bin and decides to take his chances with dying of hunger in the middle of the night.

 

 

Ten is the kind of person who has a favourite macaron bakery. He will plant himself there for hours when he gets a break between meetings, and the staff don't mind because he's cheerful and friendly and continuously purchases macarons throughout the slow time of their business day. They know him by name, and he's struck up a sort of friendship with them. He remembers their relationship problems, the state of their mothers' health and their ongoing struggle to get their landlords to fix their fucking showers, and inquiries about these things whenever he drops by, because that's the kind of person he is. Doyoung's not sure how Ten came about using a macaron bakery as a home office, but however it began, it is a very Ten thing to do. Today Ten has been in the macaron bakery for two hours, and now Doyoung is in it too.

"Thanks for coming to see me!" Ten chirps, as if Doyoung has dropped by his home as a dinner guest. "I told you I was going to keep that promise. Also, the phone call was just not working out."

"Yeah, those are more successful around 3AM," Doyoung concurs.

The 3AM calls generally aren't interrupted by interjections of "wait, I have to put you on hold, a client is calling" every five minutes, from both parties. After hours passed without more than a few snippets of words managed between the two of them, Doyoung was tempted to inflict bodily harm on the next pesky client who wanted him to actually do his job. But miraculously, this is one of the rare and beautiful times their breaks between meetings and errands overlap. After the August wedding expo, Ten had made a solemn pledge to spend more time with Doyoung in person no matter how ferociously he had to wrangle his schedule or nag Doyoung to make that happen. Thus why Doyoung is in a macaron bakery.

Ten, being a very thoughtful person, has snagged an extra table to pull beside his (with a promise to the staff to return it as soon as anyone needs it, of course). This is because both Doyoung and Ten tend to sprawl. And sprawl Doyoung does, as soon as Ten has delivered the usual kisses to his cheeks. He sits down and empties his bag in a scatter of electronics and magazines and folders and papers and writing implements and stress.

"Oh my god, I'm so glad you're here," Ten says, and slides a mug of tea over to Doyoung. "I need an actual _person_ to make faces at about the calls and emails I'm getting. The wall isn't very responsive. Also, you are great to cry on."

Doyoung looks down at the tea. It's an inviting pink colour, and the mug is adorned with an adorable painted cat. "Did you get this for me?"

"Yep! And some of these too." Ten holds out a cute little box of macarons, cheerfully patterned and adorned with a little ribbon bow. "There's lemon, passionfruit, coffee and matcha. Take whatever you want."

"Why are you so amazing?" Doyoung asks, and reaches for a matcha one.

He's very happy to see Ten in person. It's been a hell of a day. His phone has been ringing off the metaphorical hook, and he's beyond grateful that he hasn't got any actual meetings or errands scheduled today because the onslaught of calls and texts has been so intense he's not even had time to take a single deep breath. He has had an ongoing debate with the provider of the sangria fountain for his Halloween wedding regarding whether or not he actually did send the payment he has physical proof of sending; one of his December couples, Changkyun and Hyungwon, required emergency relationship counselling; Yuju accidentally destroyed her wedding dress; and of course every single other mundane task, logistical confirmation and base-touching under the sun had to be done. Doyoung has been intermittently fantasising about a world in which everyone decides to take a few months off from getting married.

The macaron is delicious, and Doyoung can feel his mood already improving as he looks around at the cheery pastel decor. Ten has good taste in pastries, and in home offices. Doyoung can't keep himself grabbing from two more macarons at once. "The next round is on me," he promises, to compensate for his plundering. He chews them appreciatively as he finally overcomes his dread to open his messages, and forces himself not to be horrified by the number of unread texts that have stacked up in the short time he disregarded them for an actual human interaction. By some miracle the deluge of calls seems to have dropped off, allowing him to focus on other forms of people demanding his attention. He and Ten work in silence for a while, sipping their tea and intermittently helping to empty the macaron box. It's nice. Having Ten here with him makes the silence a little less empty and a lot more comfortable.

"Okay, can I vent?" Ten finally says, looking up from the list he's making of possible non-obnoxious party favours for a wedding right before Valentine's Day. That question always merits an automatic yes, so he launches right into it. "If one more client calls me past midnight and gets mad at me for not answering, I'm going to snap. Like yes, I'm awake, and I won't even pretend I'm going to sleep before 5AM, but that's _me_ time. It's my only _me_ time. That is not business hours, and I am not going to put up with it."

"Ugh, I know. It's awful. Some people think we're the human version of a wedding website they can open up whenever the hell they want." Doyoung frowns, shakes his head and lets out a sigh nearly forceful enough to blow his mess of papers into Ten's face. "It's good you don't deal with it, though. If I were awake, I'd answer. I'd send them to hell in my head because they suck, but I'd answer."

"I just have immovable boundaries. That's really what it's about," Ten says. "Maybe they don't respect my personal time, but I do. The only way to get any work/life balance is by drawing those clear lines. You really need to do that more. That's part of why you're so stressed."

"I don't even _have_ a life." Doyoung sips his tea mournfully. "It's more like a work/weeks overdue errand balance."

"Chicken and the egg. Do you never stop working because you don't have a life, or do you not have a life because you never stop working?" Ten gives Doyoung a look that's halfway between a wise sage and a scrutinising psychologist, but softens at the look on Doyoung's face and reaches over to take his hand. "I'm sorry, babe, I don't mean to lecture you. I just care about you, you know?"

"I know," Doyoung says quietly, and holds Ten's hand a little tighter.

Right then, Ten's phone rings. "Sorry, I have to put you on hold," he jokes, then slips his hand out of Doyoung's to answer the phone. Doyoung's hand feels cold.

The thing is, it's not like Doyoung doesn't know all that. And it's not like he doesn't think about it depressingly often. It's one of those things that creeps into his mind time and time again, whispering little _sleep exists_ and _when did you become such a push-over_ and _when is the last time you've done laundry_ s in his ear after yet another round of emails answered during his second all-nighter in a row. Doyoung isn't completely oblivious to the fact that it's a little bit compulsive, the way he never entirely turns work mode off anymore, but his mind has a way of spinning this into a positive reflection on his character ( _coping mechanism_ is probably a more fitting term). It's a little harder to spin it that way, though, while he's being so accurately clocked by someone whose opinion he deeply respects.

One thing Ten might not be entirely right about, however, is that work is the sole cause for his lack of a personal life. It _is_ true that work played a part; the invitations to meet for dinner or go drinking decreased linearly with how many times he had been forced to decline them or chosen to flake on them. However, that's a little too surface level. A part of Doyoung can't help feeling like maybe if they cared about him a little more, the slope of that function wouldn't've been so steep. That maybe they wouldn't've let him go so easily. Maybe if he was a little more interesting, a little more fun to be around, a little _better_ , they would have tried a bit harder to hold onto the friendship. So part of him suspects that he's a bit of a loser. His parents _had_ warned him all throughout his childhood that this was a likely outcome. Frankly, he's lucky Ten consistently takes pity on him.

"Yes, that's a great idea. You should _definitely_ ask your uninterested fiancé his opinion on the exact pattern of the napkins," Ten is saying, in a tone Doyoung calls his Ambiguously Fake Voice. Doyoung decides he's done being contemplative, snags a passionfruit macaron and gets to work on the impossible task of reaching inbox zero. The first email he opens is from a woman who's shaping up to be Nightmare Client 2: Aggravation Boogaloo. He turns to make a face at Ten, only to find Ten already making a face at him about whatever the results of the napkin questions were. Doyoung muffles a laugh as Ten masterfully manages to wriggle free of any further paper products discussion.

"Oh my god, I want that wedding to be over. _That's_ one of the past-midnight-call people. He calls at times I wouldn't even answer a booty call at," Ten says, and stuffs a lemon macaron into his mouth. Doyoung lets out an inappropriately loud snort of laughter, and grabs another macaron to muffle it with. Ten lets out a long-suffering sigh, tapping his pen against the Gifts That Aren't Sickening list, but then perks up as another topic crosses his mind. "Oh, speaking of people who suck, what happened with that asshole you told me about the last time we hung out? Y'know, Rubbish Bin Guy?"

Doyoung lets out another snort, fondly remembering pelting the chance-encounter Yuta effigy with the physical equivalent of his personality traits. "Oh, I have an update," he reassures Ten. He takes a sip of tea, trying to look like he's about to spill some juicy details, because the delighted look of anticipation on Ten's face is endearing. However, Doyoung is finally forced to put down his tea and sigh. "Dammit, you were right. He _did_ apologise. Even though I didn't know if he was serious I decided to be the bigger person and accept the apology, but it seems like he actually was. Though I would have told him to go fuck his stupid rude self if you'd not given me that fortune-cookie wisdom, so thank you."

"The wisdom was all me," Ten reminds him, with a delighted smile.

"I still don't know how serious he is or how long this will last," Doyoung quickly adds, as a note of caution, and wrinkles his nose. "He barged into my phone call with his friends the other night and actually wasn't a dick, but who knows."

"Aww, you're getting along!" Ten coos. "I knew you could do it. That's what's so great about you. You're impressively petty, but you can be the better person when it matters."

Doyoung glows from head to toe. This is the best compliment he's ever gotten. Ten has truly looked into his soul and stroked its vulnerable ego in just the right way. It's so touching he nearly tears up.

"So what did he say?" Ten asks, taking the second-to-last macaron. "Was he just like "sorry", or did he actually explain the reasoning behind his decision to be awful?"

"Just _sorry_." Doyoung shrugs. "Though I did kind of, um, go off on him and tell him all the ways he had to stop being an ass to me. He agreed. He didn't bother telling me why he had been like that in the first place though." He pauses for another sip of tea, then adds, "His friends did talk to me about it later. They said he has "issues"."

Ten snorts. "We all have issues. That doesn't excuse being an asshole."

"Oh, definitely not," Doyoung agrees. "No matter what the reason was, that was still a really shitty way to act." After a moment, he continues, "After talking to his friends, though … I kind of get why he was like that. He didn't explain his bullshit, but they did. I thought he was just making my life miserable for the hell of it, but apparently he had motivations. So I guess the reasoning behind his assholery made sense."

"Huh," says Ten. "And what exactly were those motivations?"

"He felt like me being there was pushing him aside or something. He lashed out because he felt threatened."

"What a surprise," Ten says, not sounding all that surprised. "Like a cornered animal."

"Exactly."

They sip their tea in silence for a few moments, until Doyoung interjects. "Actually, I have to schedule a cake tasting with his friends. They _really_ want to get that cake, like, immediately. But, oh god, I don't want to eat any more cake. There were all the summer weddings, and then the tastings for next spring's weddings, and Nightmare Client insisted on having a wedding cake at her _rehearsal dinner_ too. Who _does_ that? I've been eating cake non-stop for almost six fucking years, and if I _look_ at a cake right now, I am going to be sick."

God, Doyoung wishes he hadn't thought about that "almost six fucking years" part. It reminds him how long he's been suffering through this hell career, and that's even _after_ all his assistant work during university. It also reminds Doyoung that he is five months away from being 27, and he still feeds himself entirely off free food from other people's special events, convenience store snacks, 3AM takeaway and whatever cheap thing he can microwave. His life feels like it's being held together by an old-new-borrowed-blue thread, and he hasn't even mastered _existing_ in it. He wonders at what age you're meant to start feeling like your shit is together. Maybe for some people it's never.

"I feel you, but with fish," Ten says. "I don't know what's going on, because I have my finger on the pulse and this is _not_ an upcoming trend, but every tasting I've had in the past month has involved lionfish. Thrice. Lionfish. I've no idea what's up with my clients, but I hate it."

Doyoung wrinkles his nose. "I'm about to start working with a new couple. I hope _they_ don't like lionfish."

"Oh, I am too!" says Ten. "Well, I'm not sure. I don't know if I want to start working on another destination wedding while I'm already working on one. Besides, I'm starting to get really iffy about doing those. I mean, it's nice to be flown around the world, but it would really make more sense to have a planner _there_ handle it. The previous two I've done have been a logistical, research and groundwork nightmare."

"This is why I don't take any," says Doyoung. "Well, that, and I've never been offered any."

"Don't worry. Factoring in the pain in the ass, you're not missing out on much." Ten smiles brightly, linking his fingers with Doyoung's. "Hey, if I take another destination wedding, want to be my assistant? We'll go sunbathing on some tropical island. It'll be so great."

"I'll let you know if I ever _have_ time for assistant work. I can barely keep up with my own," says Doyoung. "But … maybe I _could_ push some things around. You know. To nobly assist you in these incredibly difficult endeavours. Out of the goodness of my heart."

"You are so self-sacrificing," Ten says, and nods seriously. "Assisting me with the painful tropical getaways, answering calls at 5AM, taking an olive branch from a rubbish bin asshole … you know, Doyoung, you're a really noble person."

"Well. Olive branch for now," Doyoung says. "If he crosses me, I'm ready at any minute to shove it up his ass. With the other stick that's up there." He squeezes Ten's hand, pops the last macaron in his mouth, then gets up and stretches. "I'm getting the next round of macarons. What do you want?"

"One of everything, please and thank you," says Ten, and immediately takes another call, leaving Doyoung to wail about how broke he is before surrendering. He really can't say no to Ten.

 

 

Technically, Doyoung could have set up the appointments for Johnny and Taeyong's catering and cake tastings over the phone. However, Doyoung likes doing things face-to-face. He's also a big believer in monthly base-touching meetings. And, if he's honest, he just likes seeing Johnny and Taeyong. This is how he finds himself heading back to the unofficial headquarters they've established at their kitchen island. This is becoming familiar and comfortable. However, on his way in, something less familiar happens. He's almost to the door when it bangs open and Yuta rushes out. He calls a quick "Hi Doyoung. Bye Doyoung" over his shoulder, and then he's in the lift. Doyoung blinks at the closing doors a few times, unable to fathom Yuta _removing_ himself from a meeting rather than intruding on it.

He relays this to Taeyong, who laughs at Doyoung's bewilderment. "Yes, he had to leave early. Unexpected meeting, I think."

"Oh," says Doyoung. "I thought maybe he was just trying to escape having to be nice to me now."

"Avoidance isn't really his style," Johnny says with a laugh. "I'm sure he's sorry to miss this."

Doyoung looks over at Yuta's usual place on the sofa. This is a positive development, he tells himself. Yuta might not currently be a dick, but he could revert to his former attitude at any moment and is annoying regardless. "It's kind of weird to not see him here being a leech."

"Oh, he'll be back later. But, yeah, the days he's not being a leech here are very strange by now. They're a rare and mysterious phenomenon."

Doyoung can't help but laugh. Taeyong has put a cup of tea in front of him, hot enough to offset the slight crispness in the air today. Doyoung sips it thoughtfully, contemplating the empty sofa. "How did you end up with Yuta, anyway?"

"We met him through a mutual friend shortly after he moved here from Japan … about five years ago, I think," Taeyong recounts. "It was Seulgi, actually. She was an assistant to a stylist at Vogue Korea at the time — I don't know if you've heard of Kwon Jiyong? Well, he fell in love with Yuta after seeing him in a few other magazines, and insisted on flying him in from Japan for several editorials over the years. Apparently Yuta and Seulgi kept in touch. So when he moved here, she thought he needed friends and handed him over to us."

"Oh, of course he was a model," Doyoung grumbles. Stupid beautiful Yuta. Doyoung has to admit that no matter how much of the sight of Yuta's face pisses him off just because it's Yuta's, it's very nice to look at. "But he isn't now, right?"

"No. He just looks like one," Johnny says, and laughs. "And acts like one."

"Hmm." Doyoung sips his tea, parsing this new knowledge. "That seems like the perfect job for him, though. Why is he here now?"

Johnny and Taeyong exchange a look that Doyoung, without a link to their soulmate telepathy, can't read. Doyoung is hit, yet again, with the distinct feeling that he may have crossed a professional line with his prying. He's been forgetting quite frequently lately that his job does not involve poking into his clients' lives, no matter how intriguing those lives may be. He has a _sorry I just love gossip never mind_ on the tip of his tongue, slowly inching towards the end of it.

"Well, his life in Japan at the time … wasn't good for him," Taeyong finally says, sounding like he's been trying to think of how to phrase it tactfully. "The way he was living … no one can live like that forever, and he was smart enough to realise that before most people do." Taeyong takes a sip of his own tea, then adds more quietly, "Though I don't think anyone realises it soon enough."

"Oh." This time, Doyoung can tell his prying should stop there. He doesn't fully understand all the implications of that, but they're hanging heavy in the air, so he eventually attempts to cut through them with a different direction on the topic. "So what does he do now?"

"He's a real estate agent," Johnny answers.

Doyoung blinks. "Wait, what?"

"He usually works as a seller's agent," Taeyong elaborates. "Though the broker he works for kind of lets him do whatever he wants, so he'll handle the whole moving process for friends. If you're planning on moving any time in the future, you should talk to Yuta."

Doyoung isn't sure he qualifies as Yuta's _friend_. Regardless, he's still a bit in disbelief. "I did not know this," he says. "I didn't think he actually did anything. How did I miss this?"

Johnny and Taeyong are laughing. "That's an understandable assumption for someone unfamiliar with Yuta's life," Johnny says. "He wasn't trying to sell your flat, so it never came up. But actually, you've met his assistant. You remember that tiny groomsman, Mark? Yuta dragged him into our vicinity so much that he eventually wormed his way into our hearts."

"I really didn't expect this," Doyoung says. His head is spinning with this new dimension to their world that he was unaware of. But really, Johnny's right. None of this ever came up, because Doyoung never _asked_. He didn't want to know anything about Yuta, and especially didn't want anyone to _think_ he wanted to. He's learnt more about Yuta in the past few minutes than he has in the entire time he's known Yuta exists. A whole world has opened up to him now that he no longer has a complete and utter blind hatred for Yuta, and sees him as an actual _person_ rather than the human embodiment of the feeling you get right before instinctively grabbing a pillow and screaming into it.

"You know, his job isn't too different to yours, if you think about it," Taeyong posits. "There are a lot of similarities. You could probably commiserate together."

 _Not bloody likely_ , Doyoung thinks. Lately, half his commiseration with someone who has the same job as him is about Yuta. But instead he says, "I can see some parallels."

As they finish their tea, Doyoung contemplates the sofa again. However, once he hits the bottom of the mug, he remembers something very important. "Oh, right, I — I came over here to get things done. And then I sidetracked you by wanting to know things about people. I'm so sorry."

"No, it's okay!" Taeyong reassures him, with a comforting smile. "We like chatting with you, and it makes sense that you should know things about us and our wedding party. We spend so much time together that it would be weird if we didn't know anything about each other. But if you want to get down to business, that's fine with us."

"Okay. Yes. Scheduling," Doyoung says. Normally he would plan the cake consultation for six months before the wedding, but Johnny and Taeyong are _very_ excited about the cake. They've already decided on a design and drawn up an extremely detailed sketch — apparently, a lot of research and imagination went into this — and are enthusiastic about determining what their work of art is going to taste like. Doyoung can understand the sentiment, even though the execution of it currently makes him mildly nauseous. He's getting over that, though, so he's willing to work with a longer timeline than usual. If anything, it'll align perfectly with the usual catering schedule. They had taken Doyoung's suggestion for vendors without any questions or desire to shop around, with a reassurance of _we trust you_ , which both simplifies the process and imbues it with extreme pressure. "I've worked with this caterer and this bakery a lot before, so I can get us appointments pretty quickly. How is next weekend?"

"I'm swamped with work for the next two weeks, but I trust whatever decisions you and Taeyong make," Johnny says.

"I assume Yuta will want to go too," Doyoung sighs, with a heavy heart.

"I'd count Yuta out for this week too. His schedule is pretty variable right now. He stands to close on some pretty big deals, so he's going to be running around a lot at unpredictable times."

Doyoung's heart suddenly drops a considerable amount of weight and leaps. "I have to give them a fixed headcount, like, set in stone, so if you can't guarantee Yuta can make it, then …"

"Yes, it's probably better to leave him off the reservation," Taeyong says.

"Will he feel, y'know, left out?" Doyoung asks hesitantly.

"Oh, I think the commissions he's going to make will keep him from flipping his shit," Johnny chuckles.

Doyoung wants to dance. He wants to cheer, sing praises to the heavens and throw a parade. He's finally managed to guarantee a Yuta-free event, and he is jubilant. "Okay, noted. I'll schedule them for two people."

In the end, Doyoung gets appointments on Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning. Scheduling them back to back might be a tight squeeze, but it'll get them over with quickly and cohesively, and on the convenience of the weekend no less (Doyoung is great at pulling strings).

He hopes Yuta makes those huge commissions. He genuinely does. Because he would absolutely love to have a Yuta-free event without a major Yuta-emotions-related disaster. This could backfire. Or it could be great. He'll soon find out which.

 

 

One of Doyoung's least favourite parts of any wedding is the rehearsal dinner.

Doyoung hates the rehearsal a lot. It's a group of people who have just met each other wandering around in confusion, interjecting their terrible opinions about how the ceremony should run and almost wilfully failing to understand a goddamn schedule. Invariably, Doyoung is mistaken for at least three other roles in the wedding party and instructed by uninformed people about where to go and what to do for the role he's not actually in. The instructions are never correct. However, as much as Doyoung hates the rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner takes the — of course — fucking cake.

On the surface, it seems like it shouldn't be that bad. He gets free food at a nice restaurant, and he is always in dire need of free food. He's not required to run anything, direct anything or work on anything. It's the one part of the whole affair where he can finally sit back and let the proceedings be out of his hands. However, this opportunity is actually a golden cage.

The rehearsal dinner is a prime location for the playing out of interpersonal politics. If there's any discord between anyone involved in the wedding, it will re-emerge. If there's not any previously-developed discord, some will develop. Further discord will emerge based on who's _not_ invited. Everyone is tired, either fed up or very close to fed up with all the compulsory social rituals and probably still confused about at least one major component of the ceremony or reception. Despite all this, there is the pressure to have fun. Not having fun at a rehearsal dinner makes you an unenjoyable guest, and therefore not worth the cost of the seat you're sat in; this can and will be held against you for years to come. You have to eat whatever food has been selected for you, and you have to like it. Leaving before the conclusion of the affair is considered the emotional version of dine-and-dashing, and therefore socially unacceptable. In summation, the attendees are either captive audience or unwilling participants.

Possibly the worst part, however, is the wedding planner isn't even _meant to have to attend_. Doyoung is not the couple, he is not the family and he is not even technically part of the wedding party. Social conventions don't dictate him inviting him, let alone forcing him to go. However, that doesn't stop all his clients from insisting he absolutely must be there. Past the initial _you don't have to invite me! no, really, you don't_ , he can't refuse without seeming rude or ungrateful. If the couple are friends of a friend, which they often are, he may not even have the option of a refusal to begin with. So inevitably Doyoung is compelled to attend something he hates and shouldn't even be at.

Tonight is an absolutely stunning example of all these factors.

First, there's the language barrier between the families of the brides, Lisa and Jennie. Most of Lisa's family only speaks Thai, and most of Jennie's family only speaks Korean. Lisa and Jennie's noble efforts to act as translators whenever possible haven't prevented a series of miscommunications and misunderstandings; the most recent misunderstanding led to half of Jennie's side of the wedding party quitting, and nearly a third of Lisa's family booking flights back to Thailand.

Conversely, the mothers of the brides get along a little _too_ well. Lisa's mother knows just enough Korean to allow them to team up to judge everyone, scold everyone, gossip about everyone and impose their opinions upon everything possible. No one is immune, including Doyoung; he's been thoroughly evaluated on his job performance, questioned repeatedly on his methods and given condescendingly kind suggestions of how to do everything completely differently. Despite all this they have declared Doyoung to be the sweetest and most adorable thing, and fawn over him constantly while crumbling his confidence in his abilities into dust. Lisa and Jennie are absolutely lovely, but the social atmosphere of their wedding is volatile, to say the least.

The brides' mothers insisted Doyoung should sit at the head table with them, the best man, the maid of honour and the couple. Lisa and Jennie wholeheartedly agreed. Doyoung is not getting out of here until this _whole_ affair has concluded.

The best man is Junhwe, one of the groomsmen at Bobby and Hanbin's wedding, due to the interlocking chain of client referrals from friends-of-friends. Junhwe got incredibly drunk at their reception and ended up trying to fight a chair. The maid of honour is Jisoo, Jennie's ex-girlfriend. Somehow, that is the most stable and drama-free social tie in the group.

"Doyoung, you are really so precious," Mrs Kim gushes, after Doyoung engages in the truly impressive display of manners that is thanking someone for passing him a shaker of chili pepper flakes.

"Yes, you're such a lovely young man," Mrs Manoban agrees. Then, "Not like Junhwe. He's such a disgraceful drunk mess. Lisa, dear, what were you two thinking when you chose him? Did he bribe you?"

Lisa looks absolutely mortified.

"My _ears_ are sober," Junhwe grunts, but doesn't look too bothered. Doyoung's sure he's heard things to that effect fairly often over the past several months.

"It's no wonder his girlfriend broke up with him," Mrs Manoban says to Mrs Kim, and they shake their heads in perfect unison. "Doyoung, dear, I know you keep insisting you can't possibly take his plus one, but it will just go to waste! You still have time to invite a date."

"I truly appreciate the offer, but I really can't," Doyoung says. His fingers feel just a little bit tighter around his spoon.

"You should!" Mrs Kim encourages. "Weddings are so romantic! It's the perfect opportunity."

"I should concentrate on the job I'm there to do," Doyoung says, almost robotically. "I won't get much of a chance to spend time with a date." Funny, he could swear he just had this exact conversation.

"That's okay," Mrs Manoban reassures him. "Mothers are very competent. We can take over for a little while. We'll make sure you have time with your date."

Doyoung is sure they would be more than happy to take over the entire thing if given the slightest smidgen of a chance. He wouldn't be surprised if that's a significant part of their motivation for insisting on him bringing a designated human to interact with. If he gives them even temporary control of the wedding, he'll never get it back.

"I want to make sure I give my full attention to your lovely daughters on their special day," Doyoung says diplomatically.

That sounds much more professional than _actually, no one has wanted to date me for years. I don't forsee anyone appearing in my life in the distant future, let alone one day from now. I have no romantic prospects. I haven't even got more than one friend_. His internal monologue feels like a broken record. This train of thought is a recurring theme in his life, and it keeps adding more cars full of baggage as time wears on. The closest Doyoung's had to an overnight guest in several months is the swarm of plastic spiders in one of the Halloween wedding's decoration boxes overflowing his flat's second bedroom. That bedroom is used exclusively as a home office and decoration storage. Doyoung does not, and is likely never going to, have anyone who wants to visit him.

"You must have someone special to ask," Mrs Kim coaxes, and Doyoung gives up.

"I don't," Doyoung admits, despite the utter humiliation of airing his depressing laundry in front of the beautiful couple, their jackass best man, their gorgeous maid of honour and their overbearing mothers. "I haven't got anyone to ask. At all."

Doyoung stares at the table. Junhwe has spilt soup on the tablecloth in a pattern that could be a Rorschach test. Doyoung looks away before he can figure out what he sees.

Mrs Kim and Mrs Manoban let out a simultaneous gasp loud enough to draw the attention of the entire restaurant. "No! A wonderful boy like you? That can't be possible!"

"Well obviously it can," Junhwe snorts.

"Do you want a girlfriend?" Mrs Manoban asks. "I can find you one. A lot of my friends have single daughters."

"If you like boys more, I have a friend with a son who would be _perfect_ for you," Mrs Kim volunteers. "He's a doctor!"

As it turns out, the humiliation of owning up to his perpetual singledom was nothing by comparison to the humiliation of two helicopter mothers attempting to do something about it. They are incredibly well-intentioned. Doyoung wants to join the Rorschach test as part of the tablecloth.

"I'm very grateful for your generous assistance, but please don't worry about it," Doyoung half-pleads. "I don't even really have time for a relationship."

As he says it, Doyoung realises it's depressingly true. Even if all the improbabilities in the universe aligned to present him with a suitable and willing partner, he would never be able to claw a chunk of time out of his hectic schedule to have a substantial interaction with them. He's been watering down his shampoo for the past three days because he's not had a moment to run to the store to buy more. Looking at it from a logistical standpoint, Doyoung might actually be doomed to die alone. It's a sad, sad realisation.

Doyoung must have finally got over the cake oversaturation problem, because he spends the rest of the night eating every form of cake that is put near him. In addition to a delicious raspberry fudge cake, they've also elected to provide strawberry cheesecake bites and personal-size chocolate lava cakes. After sampling all of them multiple times, Doyoung is starting to forget why he hates rehearsal dinners so much. He's also purposely choosing to ignore how much he's going to regret this tomorrow, when he's definitely going to end up eating two pieces of wedding cake — one for him, and one for the partner he could have brought but will never get the opportunity to have.

"Here. Take this," Mrs Kim says, when they're _finally_ making their way out of the restaurant, and pushes something into his hands. It's a to-go box containing — oh god — another slice of cake, accompanied by a napkin with a name and number written on it. "That's the doctor," she says, with a suggestive smile. "In case you ever want to call."

Doyoung eyes the cake in resignation, knowing he's going to end up eating it at 3AM while daydreaming and wallowing about the dreamy doctor boyfriend he could have had. But he also knows he won't wallow for too long — he'll be able to remind himself that blind dates are awful, either the doctor will have a terrible personality or think Doyoung does, and they'll part ways on awkward terms after Doyoung's fantasies of a perfect doctor boyfriend have been crushed by reality. Doyoung already knows he never would have called, but maybe it's better that way. He can keep the dream untarnished.

Besides, doctors aren't his style. If he could somehow, _somehow_ manage a relationship, he'd want someone with a job more similar to his.

 

 

Doyoung strides into the wedding cake bakery in a mood as sunny and light-hearted as the beautiful Saturday afternoon, and runs directly into Yuta.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Doyoung demands, before Yuta can so much as open his mouth to greet him. "The cake is for the people actually assisting in the cake-obtaining process. This is not a freeloader party."

"Oh, I know." Yuta grins. "Taeyong got sick last night, and he promised you two people would be here, so …"

"What?" Doyoung squawks. His eyes are nearly bugging out of his head. "He's putting this decision in _your_ hands? Who the hell would trust your judgement?"

"The same person who decided to trust _yours_ ," Yuta points out, and gives Doyoung an unapologetically critical look. "Hm, maybe you're right to question it."

And just like that, Doyoung can feel the familiar Yuta Annoyance returning. His dreams of a day without Yuta are being shattered into a million disappointing pieces right in front of him. He tries to remind himself that Yuta's not completely terrible, they've had two successful conversations in the past and he's really just an unfairly attractive human with inconvenient vulnerabilities — but no, Yuta is inherently infuriating. And no matter how much of a certainty there is, no matter how set in stone his absence seems to be, Doyoung will never be rid of him.

"Oh god. Oh my god," Doyoung groans. "Okay, let's get this over with."

"You don't like cake?"

"I am sick of cake. And I am sick of _you_."

Doyoung notes that Yuta's wearing a tie today. He has a small moment of appreciation for him. He'd thought Yuta was physically incapable of being thoughtful, and yet Yuta has provided him with a murder weapon and placed it in exactly the right location.

However, Yuta has also shown up to their appointment early, forcing them both to wait in the front of the bakery in awkward silence. It feels even heavier than usual amidst the elegantly romantic decor. Their nearly compulsive checking of their phones and intense examination of the faux clematis trellises adorning the walls do nothing to lessen it; its palpability is too aggressive. After it stretches on long enough to go from merely awkward to cringe-worthy, Doyoung is forced to break it. He keeps his eyes on a display case of entwined-letter cake toppers as he speaks, making a pointed effort not to look in the direction of Yuta's unwanted handsome face.

"I'm surprised you took a break from your busy oh-so-important dumpster-selling schedule to grace us with your presence."

"What?"

"I'm assuming your deals mostly involve dumpsters. Your natural habitat seems like the property market you would be most familiar with."

"Oh." A slow smile spreads across Yuta's face (Doyoung is not looking _at_ it, but it's in his peripheral vision as he looks at a small tower of display cupcakes _near_ it). "Have you been prying into my life, Doyoung? I didn't know you were so interested in me."

"I did not _pry_. I just mentioned your name in passing, and then didn't cover my ears when Johnny and Taeyong started talking about you." Doyoung focuses very hard on a pearl-embellished cupcake, leaving no room in his mind for the fact that this is an absolute blatant bald-faced lie. "But I was surprised to find out you've actually got a job, since you don't really seem to do anything."

"It's funny you say that." Doyoung can feel Yuta's eyes fixed on him, and finally turns to meet them because it feels weird to have Yuta staring at the side of his head. Yuta is giving him the kind of superior smirk that provokes the urge to smack it off his stupid gorgeous face. "You thought that, because you saw me for an hour every so often, I must spend the rest of the day sitting on my ass? I seem to remember _someone_ getting angry about a very similar mistaken assumption … if only I could remember who …"

Doyoung rolls his eyes. "Well, excuse me for drawing conclusions about someone who can pop up at any time there's a chance to ruin my day, and apparently spends half his life taking up space on his best friends' sofa and mooching their food."

"Moderately flexible schedule, my dear Doyoung, and a great willingness on the part of Johnny and Taeyong to take it into account. And that sofa happens to be one of my home offices — they keep hinting I should give them a cut of my commissions, but I think the sizable profit I made them on their last move more than covers my rent and grocery expenses." Yuta's smirk has continued to grow wider, and Doyoung's impulse to smack it has continued to grow stronger. "For someone who really hates assumptions being made about you, you're sure quick to make them about other people, aren't you?"

He's got a point. Despite Doyoung's almost terminal stubbornness, and the fact that Yuta is being an insufferable ass about it, he has to admit Yuta's got a point. He doesn't like that. "I still think I had more evidence than you did," Doyoung grumbles, but with a little less conviction this time.

"Oh, sure. You had all your evidence by the beginning of our second meeting, when you told me I clearly had no job or life just because I was able to show up for it. And _then_ told me there was no point in me being there, before I'd had a chance to contribute anything. Yes, you definitely had everything you needed for a thorough assessment. Forgive me for doubting you."

"Okay, so maybe I was wrong about some things." Doyoung rolls his eyes, in an attempt to offset some of his admission of error. "But I wasn't wrong about you being rude and frequently unhelpful."

"Say whatever you want."

Doyoung gives Yuta a scrutinising look, wondering if he should, in fact, say whatever he wants. He's got a lot to say. But Yuta's maddening smirk has softened into something more like a harmlessly amused smile, and Doyoung feels his attitude softening with it. This has everything to do with the fact that remaining aggravated with Yuta would sap his valuable energy, and nothing to do with the fact that Yuta has an absolutely stunning smile. But, of course, anyone would have a stunning smile if they'd once made a career out of perfecting it. There's nothing inherently _Yuta_ in the way it makes Doyoung's heart lightly flutter.

Just as Doyoung can feel his lips instinctively curling into a responding smile entirely against his will, the exchange is mercifully interrupted by the appearance of a shop assistant. She must be new; Doyoung's been in and out of this bakery many times in the last few years, but he's never seen her before.

"Hi, welcome to Sweet Somethings!" she says, with endearing enthusiasm. "My name is Eunha, and I'll be helping you today."

"I'm Yuta. And this is Doyoung, my fiancé." Yuta grins, linking arms with Doyoung.

"What? No no no," Doyoung protests, trying to yank his arm away.

"We're madly in love," says Yuta.

"No!" Doyoung yelps, finally wriggling free. "I'm the wedding planner! And this obnoxious person is, for reasons unknown, a friend of the couple."

"Nice to meet you," says Eunha. She may be new, but she seems to have been here long enough not to be fazed by dysfunctional pairs of humans, whether they're the ones getting married or not. The button on her apron says _Ask me about our passive-aggressive anniversary cakes!_. Doyoung is afraid to ask. "Okay, well, come try some cake!"

The owner, Hani, is one of Doyoung's favourite people in the whole world. She's not only the most talented baker and designer he's ever encountered, but also one of the most beautiful people. She's unfailingly cheerful, patient and heart-meltingly gorgeous. In all the years Doyoung has worked with her, he's never managed to confirm she's not actually an angel sent to earth to bless the unworthy mortals with her presence. He was in love with her for six months before forcefully dispelling the one-sided feelings out of fear of the wrath of her girlfriend, Hyojin, who kept looking at him as if she were a mind-reader.

"Doyoung!" Hani says in delight, and pulls him into a hug as soon as they enter the small room where she conducts her consultations and tastings. She smells like gardenias and joy. "It's so good to see you again! I hope you enjoyed the cake at Jennie and Lisa's wedding."

"It was almost as beautiful as you are," Doyoung blurts out, and then mentally sews his mouth shut. He can sense Hyojin placing a curse on him from across the city. Next to him, he hears Yuta snort.

"Hi! Are you Taeyong?" Hani greets Yuta, unfortunately letting go of Doyoung. "Congratulations on the engagement!"

"No. Regrettably, this is Yuta. A definite downgrade from Taeyong," Doyoung replies. "But by all means, congratulate him on Taeyong's engagement; I'm sure he'll never have one of his own."

"I'm a friend of the couple. But I'm grateful for the chance to make your acquaintance," Yuta says smoothly, and steps in front of Doyoung. "I've heard a lot about your baking, and if it's anything like you, I'm sure it's lovely." Hani giggles, drowning out Doyoung's internal screams and quiet hisses of _taken! girlfriend! taken!_. Yuta continues to block Doyoung with his body as he reaches into Doyoung's bag, pulls out the folder containing Johnny and Taeyong's sketch and presents it to Hani. "The couple designed this; I'm sure you can make it into a work of art."

"Oh, this is beautiful!" Hani gasps, looking over the sketch. "Thank you so much for bringing this!"

Doyoung muffles his further screams about how Yuta didn't bring anything but his smug attitude, unwelcome presence and conveniently located tie. He doesn't want to make a scene in front of Hani, despite how much Yuta is tempting him to. Instead, he plasters a smile onto his face that's so sculpted and stiff it might as well be made out of fondant. "Yes, thank you, Yuta. What would we do without you."

There are three tables in the room, since Hani sometimes conducts group tastings. They're all rectangular with pristine white tablecloths, but differently sized to accommodate differing numbers of members in parties. They're the only ones at this appointment, but Eunha still seats them at the smallest of the tables. It is _very_ small. While any table smaller than a buffet table would seat Doyoung too close to Yuta, this one puts him unreasonably close. If he leans just a little too far to the right, he'll be practically in Yuta's lap. That is not a place he wants to be. The smile Eunha gives him makes Doyoung absolutely certain she's done this on purpose. He feels betrayed.

"So all the samples we prepared for you today take into account the information you sent me about the couple's likes, dislikes and price range. But I expected most of that price would be going towards design and size, and didn't go way over the top with the ingredients. So no 24-karat edible gold or Iranian sargol saffron or anything like that," Hani says, after seating herself on the side of the table that, sadly, does not contain Doyoung. "After seeing their design, we'll probably be coming in way under their budget. They allocated, um, a very generous amount for the cake."

That's putting it lightly. While helping them rearrange their initial budget, Doyoung had mentioned how much they'd underestimated the price of a wedding cake — and then they'd gone to the other extreme. They'd been so painfully eager that Doyoung began pilfering money from other budget lines to let them do it. He'd become increasingly nervous as they began heavily implying they'd worked up some kind of complex and intricate masterpiece, and joking about further budget rearrangements. When they finally displayed their design to him, beaming with pride, he'd nearly fainted in relief. It was a simple four-tiered square cake with uniform white fondant, black ribbons around the bottom of each layer and a single delicate sugar flower on top. His mantra of "overstated is overrated" seemed to have paid off.

"I'm very grateful they sent in their own sketch, and that it's … this," Hani admits, mirroring Doyoung's feelings. "I expected a full-scale consultation about the architecture of a fairytale palace."

"They're just very down-to-earth people with a shaky grasp on wedding cake budgeting and a dream," says Doyoung.

"You've met Eunha," Hani says, indicating the endearing shop assistant who had driven a stake through Doyoung's Yuta-detesting heart. "She's a junior baker here. She made all the samples you'll try today. Be very honest about what will work for your — well, not _your_ , but, you know, your — wedding! We're here to help."

"Yes, Doyoung. Let's try to make the best decision for _our wedding_ ," Yuta says, sounding all too amused. Doyoung resists the urge to drown him in one of the glasses of water Eunha has placed in front of them. "We want the special day to be absolutely magical."

"The best decision would be removing _you_ from it," Doyoung mutters under his breath.

— Oh. Oh no. Doyoung realises a second too late that his brain-to-mouth filter has failed him yet again. A short montage of phrases from a certain conversation with Johnny and Taeyong begins playing in his mind. _Yuta can be, well, insecure about his place in things_ , Taeyong's voice says. _He feels like he's being shoved out of it_ , Johnny's voice adds. Yuta has some serious problems with feeling replaceable, Taeyong concludes. A giant neon _YIKES_ sign starts flashing inside Doyoung's head. He snaps his head up with a deer-in-the-headlights expression, looking to see if Yuta heard —

— but mercifully, Yuta is occupied with giving Hani flirty smiles. He seems thoroughly distracted by the pursuit of making her blush. Doyoung can't believe it, but he's actually _glad_ Yuta is engaging in this reprehensible display of greasiness. He's going to have to overcome the nearly-automatic nature of his disparaging of Yuta to pay a little more attention to what he actually _says_.

"Okay. Let's make _our wedding_ amazing," Doyoung says.

The first plates that appear in front of them contain thin slices of bright, light pink cake. It's just the cake itself, without any frosting or filling; it's always tested separately at first, to give a better idea of what it's like without any additional explosions of sugar or fruit. Doyoung eyes it apprehensively, waiting to see if any latent Cake Revulsion emerges, and is filled with relief to feel none. That would have been the only factor that could make this day as agonising as Yuta does.

"We'll start with something interesting to look at," Eunha introduces it. "This is a pink champagne cake. It's made with either a champagne or a sparkling wine reduction — this one is Krug Rosé brut — but of course the alcohol is cooked down so it's not going to replace the toast, just complement it. Common fillings for this one are Bavarian cream and pink champagne buttercream."

"The alcohol deficiency is a drawback, but I'll live," says Yuta. Doyoung looks at Yuta's existence, and can't help but agree.

Still, Doyoung has never met a champagne cake he didn't like, and this one is no exception. "This is good," he says. "I'd consider this one."

Yuta shakes his head. "It's too sweet."

Doyoung frowns. "It just tastes too sweet to you because you're always salty."

"I'm surprised it's not too sweet for you too, considering how bitter you are."

"Is _petty_ a flavour?" Doyoung snaps.

"Why, are you trying to figure out what that constant lingering taste in your mouth is?"

Before Doyoung can put the taste of _regret_ in Yuta's mouth, Eunha quickly clears the plates away and puts another set down in front of them. She also whisks the forks out of their hands to replace with clean ones, which is just as well, because had Doyoung been allowed to keep a hold of his current fork for a few seconds longer it may have ended up somewhere in Yuta's anatomy.

"Okay, so I'm guessing the champagne cake is out," Hani says diplomatically, as Doyoung somehow manages to give the act of drinking water a menacing undercurrent. She has the look of a rabbit that has been startled, but is nearly ready to be picked up again. "I'm glad you two have no problem, um, openly sharing your opinions."

That might be a bit of an understatement.

"We'll try something very simple now," Eunha says, moving things along before Doyoung can apologise profusely to Hani. Maybe it's better if he leaves her alone. "This is a classic vanilla. It's a very popular choice. Not too sweet, goes with pretty much any filling you like; with this one, the filling often becomes the main flavour, so it requires extra attention to picking that out. You could go simple, like a vanilla buttercream, or something more exciting, like lemon curd."

"Hmm. Basic and relies on sourness to get its point across. Sounds familiar," Yuta says casually, glancing at Doyoung as he takes a bite of the cake.

Doyoung drops his fork on the plate with a sharp clattering sound. "Oh? Oh really? Well. If we're going for familiarity, why don't we ask for something with a beautiful fondant exterior and a deceptively complex design covering a repulsively sweet filling and a dry, _nasty_ sponge? Maybe one of those nice display cakes that everyone swoons over, but the inside is _disgustingly fake_? Or maybe one that tastes absolutely delicious, but makes you _sick_ —"

"Will you shut up?" Yuta says, and shoves a forkful of cake into Doyoung's mouth.

Doyoung blinks in confusion for a moment, trying to process why his mouth suddenly tastes like vanilla and is full of delicious crumbs. It quickly morphs into anger once he realises why. Yuta looks amused. Doyoung is significantly less so. He chews indignantly, keeping his eyes threateningly fixed on Yuta's. He plans to unleash a string of choice words on Yuta as soon as his mouth is empty — there are several insults, a few profanities and multiple promises about what exactly he will shove where — but as soon as he opens it again, Yuta sticks another forkful of cake in it. Doyoung glares at him with the force of a thousand suns, but this time, he doesn't try to yell. He lets Yuta feed him the last bite in a comparatively docile manner, but continues to make his displeasure clear with his expression.

"There. How was that?" says Yuta.

"Rude and awful. You are awful."

"I meant the _cake_."

"Actually pretty good," Doyoung admits. "I think it's a contender."

"Hmm. Me too." Yuta gives Doyoung a long look, and then says, "You don't think the best decision would be to remove _it_ from this?"

"What?" Doyoung pauses, and then is hit very, very hard with something. Something that sounds like a montage and looks like a flashing sign. "Oh. _Oh_. You —"

"Heard your opinion of my continued participation in this, yes."

"Oh." Doyoung looks down at his fork strewn across his plate. "I wasn't being serious this time, it's just kind of a reflex to be snarky about stuff, but I didn't actually mean it, um, anymore —"

"You did. And that's okay." Doyoung continues to examine his plate in shame. The fork scattered some crumbs into a pattern that could be a Rorschach test. He can feel Yuta looking at him, so he looks up before he can figure out what he sees. He doesn't expect to be looking directly into Yuta's eyes, but he is, and he's surprised to see no anger or malice there. "It's not exactly breaking news to me. And I understand why you feel that way. I felt that way about you too. I mean, shit, I tried to get rid of you."

"I could tell," Doyoung says wryly.

"I know. That was the point." Yuta returns the wry smile. "But I got over it, and you're going to have to get over it too. If you don't, then there's no way this will work. You don't want this wedding to go to shit any more than I do, but you're only gonna be able to act like it for so long if you don't actually _think_ like it. So can you try?"

"I can try," Doyoung mumbles to the tablecloth, but then forces himself to look back up into Yuta's eyes. "I'll try."

An incalculable amount of time passes before Eunha finally lets out a series of delicate fake coughs. Hani is staring at them with even wider eyes than before, mildly afraid but strangely soft and sentimental, and Eunha has the air of someone who's not had the slightest idea where to look throughout this whole exchange. "Cake …?" Eunha asks, holding up two plates.

"Cake," Hani suggests, indicating the plates.

"Cake," Yuta agrees.

"Cake," Doyoung confirms.

Yuta and Doyoung assist Eunha by pushing aside the hapless plates that served as the metaphor-ridden backdrop for their explosive resolution of long-festering conflicts, and offer polite, subdued _thank you_ s as the new ones are placed in front of them. This cake is an appealing light colour, and appears to have a pleasant texture. It looks innocuous and peaceful. "This is an almond cake," Eunha says, in a tone that's impressively calm considering the preceding events. "It has a nice, understated flavour and also goes well with a variety of fillings; I'd recommend an amaretto buttercream. It's very, um, harmonious … so I think you'll like it."

Doyoung goes to carve out a bit of his — and then immediately knocks his water over onto the plate, soaking the slice of cake into soggy, sad oblivion. "I'm sorry," he apologises, and looks at the cake in distress. "I'm sure it was very good."

"Here. Try mine." Yuta gets a bite of cake onto his fork and lifts it to Doyoung's mouth. This time, Doyoung opens his mouth for it without protest. It's absolutely delicious. The flavour, the texture, the _everything_ is perfect. For a moment, he's lost in an alternate reality where everything is cake and nothing hurts.

As soon as he comes back to actual reality, though, he frowns at Yuta in mild annoyance. "Can you stop doing that? You're going to stab my tongue."

"You say that like something that shuts you up would be a bad thing."

Doyoung gives him a cautionary look. "Be nice to me," he warns.

Yuta smiles. "I think we should choose this cake."

"I completely agree," Doyoung says, and then turns to Hani. "We'll take the amaretto buttercream. No need to taste it. I think this is probably a good point to end at."

"Great! Great." Hani gives them a smile that's the kind of weary that comes from a long and painful but ultimately satisfying struggle. "I think we've made a lot of progress here today."

 

Doyoung gives Hani a long hug goodbye. He's always found her presence comforting, and right now he's absolutely exhausted. He is also beyond relieved that his and Yuta's spectacular display of questionable conflict resolution doesn't seem to have affected her willingness to work with him in the future, her desire to interact with him or _most_ of her respect for him as a civilised human being.

"I'm so sorry, and thank you for everything," Doyoung tells her. "I've always thought you were an angel."

"Don't be silly," says Hani. "An angel would have much better things to do all day than make cake."

On their way out the door, Eunha hands them a small beautifully wrapped box. "Here's a slice of the cake and filling to bring to Taeyong and his fiancé. I think they'll really like your choices."

"I hope so. Thank you so much for all your help," says Doyoung. Yuta takes the box, and Doyoung informs him with his eyes that he'd better not eat it before he can get it to Johnny and Taeyong. Yuta pointedly does not meet his warning gaze.

"You know, I really enjoyed meeting you," Eunha says, with an innocent smile. "One of my favourite things about this job is getting to know couples who are madly in love."

Eunha disappears into the kitchen, leaving Doyoung staring after her absolutely flabbergasted. Beside him, he can hear Yuta laughing.

"Oh my god. I hate you. I hate you so much," Doyoung tells Yuta.

Yuta grins and reaches for Doyoung's hand, squeezing it lightly. "That's not a very nice thing to say while we're planning _our wedding_."

Yuta promptly exits the bakery with the box of wedding cake and the remaining shards of Doyoung's patience, leaving him looking back and forth in confusion between his hand and the door.

 

 

The next morning, Doyoung shows up to the menu tasting appointment and finds Yuta standing outside the venue.

"Let's reschedule for another day," says Doyoung.

Yuta ignores him, grabs his hand and drags him inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i may or may not be gradually colliding all my fics into the same universe.
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> i promise the next chapter will be up much sooner than two and a half months (!!).


	5. T-8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who misses halloween? i do! or, that's my excuse for posting this in april.
> 
> i know i promised shorter update times, but life didn't cooperate. i've been going back and forth between cities working on a variety of projects and jobs, amongst other things ... including being in a wedding, so please have sympathy for the fic's wedding party during that time-consuming and expensive endeavour. i also promised this chapter would be shorter, but that didn't happen either.
> 
> as always, all my love to my #AngstStarTrash Squad for their constant support/enabling of my fics and questionable life choices.
> 
> thank you for sticking with this glacially-paced monster of a fic!

 

**T-8**

The first Friday night in October, Doyoung finds himself at a table in an intimidatingly trendy club holding a glass of insanely marked up Moët Impérial and feeling a strobe-induced headache coming on.

This was not Doyoung's idea. He doesn't find himself in clubs very often anymore. On the rare occasion he does, he's been dragged there by Ten and spends the night trying to subtly manoeuvre Ten's dancing closer and closer to the door in hopes he might shimmy out of it without noticing. Doyoung's not sure if he's getting too old for clubs, too un-fun, or was just never fun to begin with. But Doyoung is in a club now, and for once it's not because of Ten — which means, of course, it's because of Johnny and Taeyong. They're the only other people on this earth who would and could coax Doyoung into a place like this.

This is also not Doyoung's scene. He was alarmed at Johnny and Taeyong's decision to hold their next meeting here, given that his current financial situation is analogous to that of a squirrel who has stashed away food that will have to last through the cold winter months, but they reassured him that as their guest he needn't worry about the cost (and implied they weren't worried about the cost either, due to "some friends of Johnny's" that were never elaborated upon). But since this is the scene Doyoung is in, he's going to have to make the best of it.

The reason he's here is to evaluate the DJ that will be performing at their wedding reception — or, at least, that's what they told him in a tone of voice equivalent to a sly wink. Doyoung suspects the real reason is that Johnny and Taeyong wanted a night out, had wedding business to attend to and saw an opportunity to brighten up his clearly pathetic life without making their well-intentioned pity obvious.

Johnny DJ'd throughout university, and continued to make occasional weekend appearances until his budding digital marketing career became too demanding and he was forced to consistently go to bed at a reasonable hour. However, he's maintained a lot of friendships and connections from that period in his life, including with the DJ spinning here tonight, who will be bringing her talents to their celebratory affair. Conversely, Taeyong assembled the band for the ceremony out of a group of his friends who are classically trained musicians. The ceremony and the reception are going to have very different vibes.

"Well, this is nice," Taeyong says, sipping his champagne far too peacefully for the chaos around them. Doyoung noticed this sense of serenity came over him like a Pavlovian response to the sound of the two bottles of Moët they got for the table being popped open. "How was your day?"

Doyoung doesn't pay attention, figuring Taeyong must be talking to Johnny — until he glances up from his drink to see them both looking him. It catches him off guard. Clients almost never ask him that. "Oh. Um." Doyoung tries to think of a good synonym for _hell_ , but ends up with "It was fine."

It really wasn't fine. He got screwed over by a venue for an April wedding, discovered the caterer for his _other_ April wedding had unexpectedly gone out of business and struggled greatly to reach some kind of understanding with the bridal shop whose dress Yuju had destroyed. He was also called by Nightmare Client because her husband had just filed for divorce, she was determined to blame it on _every single person_ in the wedding process besides herself, and intended to make him aware of his supposed role in her failed marriage by screaming at him until he hung up on her because one more vicious analysis of how his professional abilities might be affected by his failure of a personal life would have made him cry. He cried anyway, when he fell down a flight of stairs in a church and a subsequent bible-related head injury pushed him over the edge.

But Johnny and Taeyong don't want to hear about that. They don't want to hear about most days of his, really; very few people would actually want to hear about the realities of the life of a wedding planner. Especially since so much of it is answering emails. "I yelled a lot at my inbox" has never been part of a fascinating narrative.

"So this is the DJ," Johnny says, indicating the air around them. "She's great, right? I promise the reception is going to be a lot more subdued than this, though. Kind of a party, but not _this_ kind of party." That's good. Doyoung hates planning _this_ kind of party. "Her name is Jucy. We met during my DJ days … _way_ back in the day." Johnny lets out a self-deprecating laugh. Doyoung feels weary. Does everyone have to keep making him feel old? His mind and aching joints do that often enough. And he's still pretty young. If this is how he is at 26, he can't imagine what he'll be like in his mid-30s. Actually, ten more years of life sounds like way too much for him. Maybe the heavens will take pity on him and he'll be dead by then. "I wish you could meet her tonight, but as you can see, she's kinda busy. And I doubt you want to hang around until 5AM. You'll meet her at some point, though."

Doyoung would hope that, at the very least, he'll meet her at the reception. If not, something has gone terribly wrong.

He takes a few sips of champagne, looking around. Their table is in a strange no-man's land that's not fully in the privacy of the VIP, yet is still behind a short railing on a balcony overlooking the dance floor; it seems intended for a demographic that goes to clubs not to participate in them, but to bask in the noise and stare down at them from above. Despite the distance, he feels like he's smack dab in the middle of the action. There are lights. There is loud music. There is smoke. There is dancing. There is a buzz of various high-decibel forms of drunk communication. There are bottle servers striding gracefully between the tables, and patrons stumbling much more clumsily around them. Ten would probably love it here. Doyoung is _exhausted_.

As if on cue, Doyoung's thoughts are interrupted by someone he can reliably count on to increase his exhaustion. "Hi," Yuta says, and nudges Doyoung to the side to seat himself in the sofa-ish booth beside him. Doyoung looks him over, and lets out an extremely long sigh. Despite coming directly from a series of work and personal engagements, Yuta is dressed for the occasion to an almost ridiculous degree — complete with alarmingly tight trousers, an incredibly revealing shirt, an O-ring choker and levels of eyeliner a raccoon might aspire to. He looks like something that would be found in the depths of a sex dungeon, or onstage with a questionable K-Pop boyband. The overall effect is borderline obscene. Doyoung is judging him very hard. He is also feeling fragments of his soul escaping.

Additionally, why does Yuta always smell so nice? He currently looks like he should be scented with cigarettes and liquor. Instead, he still smells like men's designer couture heaven. It's giving Doyoung severe cognitive dissonance.

"Okay, what are we getting fucked up on?" Yuta asks, surveying the table in anticipation.

"This is a business meeting, Yuta," Doyoung sniffs.

"Sure, sure. And it's none of _your_ business how fucked up at this meeting I want to get." Yuta fixes Doyoung with one of his stunning smiles, and Doyoung is temporarily blindsided before snapping out of it to study him more closely. Yuta's face is painted thickly with smoky eyeshadow and layers of bb cream and highlighter. God, he's so fucking extra it hurts. Actually hurts. Yuta on a normal day can be painfully attractive, but Yuta dressed in risqué clothing and caked with makeup is almost _offensive_. Doyoung wants to toss him back between the pages of whatever magazine he belongs in, slam it closed and staple it shut.

"Did you wear _that_ to work?" Doyoung says, looking Yuta up and down critically.

"It was just a meeting with a client and an open house," Yuta says blithely. "I think I'm going to get some _very_ good offers on that place, though."

Doyoung bites back his comment and drains his glass.

As it turns out, Johnny and Taeyong also intend to discuss the song choices for the ceremony. They plan to decide what solemn romantic thing they are going to walk down the aisle to against the backdrop of thumping bass and inebriated revelling. Doyoung can't reliably hear himself think, let alone hear them speak. He's not sure this was the best idea. Nonetheless, Johnny pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolds it, handing it across the table to Doyoung. Doyoung has to lift it all the way up to his nose to read it in the dim, intermittently flashing lighting. "Here's a list of songs we're thinking of. Mostly standard stuff. We've not decided on final choices or thought much about the order, but those are what we had in mind."

"Okay, not bad," says Doyoung. He's kind of guessing. He can only read half the list. "The most important songs are what you walk in to, what you walk out to and whatever is before, after and/or during the vows."

"Music during the vows is lame. Don't do that," says Yuta. He's served himself a glass of Moët, and is almost done with it.

"You talking is lame. Don't do that," Doyoung mutters.

He can't tell if Yuta doesn't hear him, or just chooses to ignore him. After how well Yuta managed to fake not hearing him at the bakery, he can't be sure. He might as well assume that anything he mutters will be thrown back in his face later. He pours himself another glass to keep from muttering anything else.

Right then, Yuta's phone goes off. His ringtone is the obnoxious chirping of some kind of Pokémon. Doyoung gives him a disbelieving look. "Oh, hold on, I have to take this," Yuta says, then nearly overflows his glass with another drink and begins yelling into the phone. "Mark! My favourite overly responsible young person. Everyone, say hi to Mark!" He holds the phone aloft until they all chorus "Hi, Mark" and then returns to yelling into it, working his way through the drink at a steady pace. "Okay, what kind of offers do we have coming in? … _Excellent_. I knew it. I should dress like a tasteful fetish model every day. … Okay, you're right, you're right. But still. We're doing great. … I am not going to get _too drunk_ , Mark, stop worrying! Worry about actual important stuff, like whether I'm going to get too drunk. … Yeah, okay, I'll make sure to drink water. … I don't need to know where my keys are, I'm with Johnny and Taeyong. … I know, I know. You're right. … Yeah, go ahead, pick out the photos that don't suck and delete the rest, and turn my list of cliché descriptors into beautiful house-poetry. … Uh, shit, I forgot to get staging for that one. Yeah, set that up. … You are the best, Mark. I love you, Mark. … Okay, I promise not to black out in a rooftop garden again. Bye, Mark."

As Yuta ends the call, Doyoung stares at him in wonder. He feels like they have suddenly been put on perfectly even footing. Yuta, he realises, no longer has any credibility in criticising his personal life. Because just as Doyoung suspected, despite his debunking of Doyoung's negative assumptions about him, beneath it all Yuta is a confirmed _hot mess_.

Maybe going out tonight was a good idea after all.

"Guys," Yuta says, somehow already halfway through his third glass, "I'm worried about Mark. It's 11:30 on a Friday night, he's 21, and he's spending it preparing listings, arranging furniture deliveries and worrying about his boss's potential alcohol-fuelled disasters. I think my assistant needs a life."

"Your assistant is a long-suffering angel and you should be glad he puts up with you," Taeyong says.

"Yeah. That kid." Yuta shakes his head. "Sometimes I feel bad that I snatched him up before an actual good boss could get to him."

"Oh, that wouldn't matter," Johnny says, and laughs. "Mark's the type who needs unreasonable amounts of responsibility dumped on him, and someone to either worry about or be afraid of. If it weren't for you, he'd end up as a butt-monkey at a big brokerage firm. Or getting bossed around by someone with a property-related reality show and several risk factors for PR nightmares."

"Ugh. I can't watch any of those shows." Yuta drains his glass and reaches for the bottle he's sharing with Doyoung; upon attempting to pour a fourth glass, he discovers the bottle is empty. He solves this problem by snagging Johnny and Taeyong's bottle instead. "Either the buyers annoy me with their unrealistic expectations, renovations give me terrible flashbacks or the agents make us all look like douchebags."

"I don't think _you_ need any help with that," Doyoung says.

"You should have your own show," Taeyong suggests, removing the bottle from Yuta's hand before he can actually serve himself any of it. "It could be called My Broker Is Sketchy And Mentally Checked Out So I Sell Whatever I Want, Wear Bondage Collars To Interact With Clients And Pawn Off Responsibility For Legal Mishaps."

"I think the title needs work," Doyoung says gently.

"I was once one of the real estate agents who pretend to show people houses on House Hunters." Yuta shrugs. "I guess that's close enough."

"Yeah, that was a good episode," Johnny reminisces. "Sucks that the couple had already bought the colonial house. You sold that Victorian mansion so well."

"I would've bought it," Taeyong adds, pouring the last of the champagne into his own half-empty glass before Yuta can get to it.

"Okay, so we're going with no music during the vows, unanimous decision," Yuta decrees, and bangs his hand on the table like a judge's gavel. "And we are getting vodka shots, also a unanimous decision."

"The royal "we" does not count as an actual collective opinion," Doyoung says.

They end up with vodka shots anyway. Three rounds of them.

Johnny and Taeyong have been really loosened up by the champagne and are knocking the shots back without a second thought. Doyoung had naively underestimated the amount of actual drinking they would be doing. For some reason he had pictured things staying at the moderate-champagne-drinking level, lulled into a false sense of security by the fact that they were ostensibly going to be getting work done. Doyoung realises with a dawning sense of apprehension that he forgot actual fun exists. And now he's going to have to keep up with the fun. He hopes they're not planning to get _too_ lit (is he using that right? He doesn't know what the kids these days are saying).

"More shots," Yuta insists, but Johnny shakes his head.

"No more for you. We're gonna take a nice long break, and the only thing you'll be drinking is water."

Johnny tilts his head at Yuta and mouths to Doyoung, _lightweight_. Doyoung snickers, then remembers _he's_ a lightweight and probably shouldn't laugh. Taeyong and Johnny's responsible insistence on spreading the shots out over an extended period of time just means they've had time to catch up to him. He's pretty glad he followed up the toppled-bible-stack incident with comfort eating. If he'd been in his usual food-deprived state, he'd be _really_ fucked up right now. As it is, he's still feeling it. Everything is a little blurred, a little off, and he downs both glasses of water put in front of him with impressive speed. Yuta has to be threateningly eyed into drinking his. Doyoung is very grateful that they're out with both the Mom Friend and the Dad Friend.

"Oh, this is a great time to discuss the bar," Taeyong says. "It'll be open bar. Some bartender friends of ours are handling the whole thing — we figure they'll do a good job of picking stuff out and getting it to people who will drink it. Yuta, of course, will be assigned a chaperone."

"Hilarious," Yuta says sardonically, but the slight slur on the end of the word keeps it from being biting. "I'll have duties and stuff. So I'll be responsible."

They've not yet decided what those duties will be, but this is probably not the time to hash that out. In the meantime, Doyoung marvels again at the assorted talents and connections of Johnny and Taeyong's million friends. He wonders what it must be like to have a network forged out of love rather than repeated formation of business contracts.

Over time, Yuta has become less and less mindful of the concept of personal space. Doyoung thought they were sitting close together at the cake tasting, but this is far worse. Yuta seems to be under the impression that Doyoung's shoulder is a piece of furniture, because that's exactly what he's using it as. Doyoung looks over to see if Yuta even notices he's co-opted one of Doyoung's limbs as his own personal cushion, and — fuck. He shouldn't've looked at Yuta. He's drawn into studying him again. The more Doyoung looks at him, the more apparent it becomes that Yuta is someone who knows exactly what his good features are and how to highlight them. His hair is styled to accentuate his high cheekbones, his low-cut shirt displays his prominent collarbones and the lip stain he's wearing plumps his plush lips so subtly Doyoung hadn't noticed he had it on until now. The ring on his choker draws the eye directly to the soft, pale skin of his neck. After getting past the bewitching effect of all the adornments and paint, it becomes startlingly clear that this Yuta is a creature pieced together entirely by theory and technique. But, of course, it only makes sense that Yuta would have picked these tricks up after so long of watching other people put him together like this.

The problem, though, is that Doyoung's not wholly captivated by the styling. He's seen through the illusion, and beneath it, Yuta is still _magnetic_.

Yuta must feel him looking, because he turns to face Doyoung and meets his gaze. There's something a bit more sly in _this_ smile, and Yuta's body is warm against his. Doyoung finds himself blinking a few times, looking into Yuta's big dark eyes and trying to figure out what he means. And, yeah, maybe Doyoung is even more drunk than he thought, because he falls into them and gets lost and loses track of how much time passes. Yuta lets him; he doesn't break eye contact, just allows Doyoung to search for whatever he wants to see. But before Doyoung can find it, Yuta finally turns away. Doyoung keeps looking, mesmerised. Yuta is gorgeous. Stupidly, stupidly gorgeous.

Doyoung can easily see how anyone could fall in love with Yuta — from pictures of him, of course, because the actual Yuta is more of an _experience_. Like this, Doyoung can imagine what Kwon Jiyong saw in him. It makes him a little curious what the pictures that captivated Jiyong looked like.

"Right, Doyoung?"

"What? Oh." Doyoung snaps his eyes back to whatever is happening across the table, his mind taking a lot longer to snap back as well. The alcohol has everything slowed down. But really, he can't be blamed for being distracted; it's not his fault Yuta decided to show up as a BDSM dress-up doll and make eyes at him. "Sorry, repeat the question?"

"We were saying, aren't weddings fun?"

The sheer hilarity of that statement clears Doyoung's head quite a bit. If he'd had one less shot, it might have sobered him up entirely. However, he's still drunk enough to snort loudly. "Oh god no, weddings are a nightmare. You wouldn't believe the crazy things I see. And all the disasters I have to clean up. And the emails, ugh, the emails."

Johnny and Taeyong laugh. "Okay, what's the worst client you've ever had?" Taeyong says, looking fascinated.

"Ha. Oh. That's a great one." Doyoung wipes a tear from his eye, but he's not sure if it's a tear of mirth or a tear of misery. "Well, I had one I called Nightmare Client — she was _that_ bad. She still haunts me to this very day. And, oh, was her wedding an adventure." Doyoung launches into an odyssey of the highlights of his Nightmare Client experience — the time she tore several Swarovski crystals off her wedding dress for not being sparkly enough; the time she ordered the wedding colours and signature flowers to be changed three months before the wedding; the time she decided in the same 4AM phone call to replace half her bridesmaids, change the wedding time, sack the "unsatisfactory" caterer and obtain two additional wedding cakes; and then, of course, the time a few hours ago when she nearly reduced him to tears because her poor husband finally decided it was time for her several years of tyranny over his life to come to an end. Johnny, Taeyong and Yuta listen absolutely transfixed. They laugh at the appropriate moments, and make sympathetic and outraged noises at others. It's odd to Doyoung. They actually _care_.

"Man, that's wild," Johnny says, when he finishes his tragic tale. "Holy shit, I'm glad you survived."

"More stories," Taeyong encourages.

Doyoung laughs, and unearths more appalling treasures from the landfill of his life. He tells them about everything falling apart on the morning of Bobby and Hanbin's wedding; Lisa and Jennie's mothers, after months of concerted effort, finally managing to temporarily wrest control of their wedding from him during the reception toast; the time part of a reception hall ceiling collapsed and forced all the attendees to evacuate in panic; a _priest_ who left the _couple_ at the altar; a florist who simply disappeared off the face of the earth; and a weeks-long wild goose chase around a different city for a venue that turned out to not even exist. He tells them about the wild world of the two celebrity weddings he's worked on: the elaborate and overwrought and horrifyingly overwhelming experiences they were, and the nightmares and flashbacks he still sometimes has from them. He drunkenly and brazenly bares the depths of his tortured, weary wedding planner soul to them, because, well, they asked for it.

"Oh my god," Taeyong says softly when he's done, and reaches across the table to take Doyoung's hand amidst their fits of laughter. "That was … a journey. Maybe _you_ should have your own show."

"Or write a book," Johnny suggests, still struggling to control his laughter. "You are one hell of a storyteller."

"Thanks, I was just ranting," Doyoung replies.

"You worked on Zhou Mi and Kyuhyun's wedding?" Johnny asks. He looks impressed. "Wow, that's amazing. We knew you worked on Yunho and Changmin's wedding, but not Zhou Mi and Kyuhyun's."

"Oh, right, that happened," Doyoung says. "I was doing a favour for my old boss. She's got this big celebrity wedding planning company now and needed some extra help on that particular one, and I guess she remembered what a hard-working and exploitable assistant I was, so she called me and then just kind of … dropped that on my head. I thought it would be _fun_ , ha. And for some reason I agreed to put myself through that again the next time she called, but then _that_ time she dumped, like, almost the entire responsibility for the last three months of Yunho and Changmin's wedding on me. You might think huge-crazy-expensive-wedding money was the reason I agreed, but no, she just threw several people's jobs at me, including her own, and then paid me like the rest of her staff scrambling around for a small fee working crazy overtime. But at least the absolute living hell was temporary, and I got to put celebrity weddings in my portfolio. And, oh, speaking of the other people in her company, you wouldn't _believe_ the behind-the-scenes drama during the Qmi wedding. But that's a story for another time."

Taeyong smiles. "I can't wait to hear it."

"Yeah, give me the drama," Yuta says, still leaning heavily on Doyoung's shoulder. "If you didn't do some really petty shit, I'm gonna be so disappointed."

Doyoung laughs, and — when did his arm get draped around Yuta's waist? He doesn't remember that happening. It must've got tired of being trapped between his side and Yuta's whole body weight and moved itself to somewhere it wouldn't be crushed. Which happened to land his hand on Yuta's hip. That doesn't really matter though. What matters is Doyoung is actually fitting in with them. He's not the awkward out-of-place messy-drunk hanger-on he was afraid he'd end up as. He can't believe this is going so well.

"You're fun. We like you," says Taeyong, and, wow, the alcohol must have really got to Taeyong in order to put that opinion in his mind. "Would it be weird to invite you to our Halloween party?"

Doyoung almost tears up. It's been literal years since he's been invited to any Halloween party that's not one Ten is insisting that "the hosts won't mind if I bring you! It's okay if you don't know anyone else! _Please_ don't stay home and binge on peanut butter cups again". He thought this day might never come. But then — but then.

"I've got a wedding on Halloween night," Doyoung says mournfully. "I would definitely go if I could."

"Aww." Johnny, for reasons unknown, reaches over the table and pats Doyoung on the head. Maybe Johnny is also a little tipsier than he's letting on. "You're gonna do great."

"Thanks," says Doyoung, finding this weirdly encouraging.

"Okay, _now_ more vodka shots," Yuta declares.

"Let's go for champagne instead," Taeyong says tactfully.

They get another bottle of Moët (only one this time). Yuta polishes off two glasses almost immediately. Halfway through the second one is when he starts insisting they should dance. By the time the glass is empty, he's resorted to tugging on sleeves and making pleading faces.

"I think we're all enjoying, um, sitting," Taeyong finally says, trying to give the decision an air of finality.

Over the course of the additional drinks, Yuta has thrown the concept of personal space out the window to the point that he's no longer accepting Doyoung's shoulder as a marker of a space bubble. He's now blatantly laying halfway into Doyoung's lap without any regard for Doyoung's feelings on the matter, or desire to maintain circulation in all his limbs. He is very close, and still smells _very_ nice despite the added layer of alcohol. He looks up at Doyoung with hazy, half-lidded eyes, somehow managing to lean even closer. Doyoung finds himself automatically leaning into him as well. Yuta gives him an imploring look. "You're not gonna dance with me?"

"I'm not going to dance _at all_ ," says Doyoung, and attempts to sit Yuta back up, even as his mind is whispering _think about it. imagine it. what's the worst that could happen?_ He shuts it out. "And even if I did, it definitely wouldn't be with you."

Yuta allows Doyoung to sit him up and shrugs vaguely. "Your loss." He gets up from the sofa unsteadily, but heads off with a surprising amount of grace. Doyoung's not really noticed it before, but he's always been kind of aware of it — despite the roughness of his personality, Yuta walks with a lot of grace.

"Um," Doyoung says, pointing to Yuta's departing, tightly-clad rear.

"Oh, yeah, just let that happen," Johnny says. "We generally give it about twenty minutes. He'll either wander back with with two more drinks and a bunch of random people's numbers, or we'll go looking for him. Either way, he's got his phone location shared with us, so he won't get far."

Doyoung can't help but laugh. Though maybe that's because the most recent glass of champagne has him slipping further into the intoxicated zone again. Drinking is nice. It dulls the ache in his soul, makes him feel warm and fuzzy things towards the people he's with and makes them feel positive things towards him. Maybe he's been making a big mistake by never going out anymore. Maybe if he'd kept forcing himself to drink with people, they would have kept liking him. Or, at the very least, he would be drunk more often.

"You can leave whenever you want," Johnny tells him. He's got his arm around Taeyong, stabilising him a little. "We're just waiting for the Yuta Situation to run its course so we can drag his drunk ass home."

"I thought we weren't going to let him drink _that_ much after last week …?" Taeyong mutters, trying to keep his voice quiet, but is still clearly audible.

"Right. Heck. Well … different circumstances. We'll keep a closer eye on him this time."

"We just lost him in a club."

"Oh. Fuck. Uh, it'll probably be fine."

Doyoung laughs. This is a new side to Very Responsible Johnny And Taeyong, who seemed incapable of even minor negligence. They're all learning quite a bit about each other's flaws tonight. "Yuta's an adult," he reassures them. "It's not your job to keep track of him."

"Well … it kind of is," Johnny replies. "In a way, we're always going to be a tiny bit responsible for Yuta."

"He used to be almost entirely our responsibility," Taeyong reminisces. "But we knew he would be when we took him in. He was a _lot_ of work back then. Building someone up from the shards of themselves, trying to piece them back together into something that holds together once you let go of it … it's hard. It's really hard. There were some days I wondered what the hell we were doing. If we were even doing it right, because there's no blueprint for that. But, well, I guess we must have done an okay job. I think he's doing pretty well."

Even in its drunken fog, Doyoung's mind is racing. Apparently, several drinks is all it takes to turn Taeyong into a fountain of private knowledge that overflows into his hands without him even having to activate it. It would be easy, too easy, to make another comment. To push a little further. But no, he's not meant to pry. And he's not going to. No matter how tempting it is.

"You sound like parents," Doyoung finally says.

"Pet owners," Johnny automatically replies. "We used to say Yuta was the world's most high-maintenance pet, and we should've just got a gerbil." He grins wryly. "Instead we got the equivalent of one of those scrawny, sick, pitiful stray cats you bring home from the shelter and eventually turn into a spoilt housecat. But thankfully, these days he's more like an outdoor cat. He roams, goes about his life, sleeps in whatever place he's found out in the world, then stops back at our home to hang out and eat."

The metaphor is so incredibly accurate that Doyoung snorts. "I'm sure he was a quite spoilt housecat indeed."

"Oh, you have _no_ idea."

Time passes in a comfortable flow of conversation and silence. More drinks also pass, in a comfortable flow of bottles and glasses. Doyoung doesn't keep track of either. It must be the first time in forever he's let himself completely forget about the concept of time.

After several hours, the only work they've actually accomplished is acknowledging that the DJ is good and that a list of song ideas exists. Taeyong is laying on Johnny's shoulder with his eyes out of focus, aimlessly swirling a bastardised mix of champagne and five different mixers around in someone else's glass. Johnny has cuddled up to him, and is occasionally informing Taeyong of positive adjectives that describe him. Yuta has returned with the expected numbers, completed the process of getting utterly wasted and fallen asleep half on Doyoung's lap and half on the table. Doyoung is relying entirely on the back of the sofa and the back of Yuta to keep track of where two of the cardinal directions are. Johnny looks down at Taeyong with a fond smile, and kisses the top of his head. Doyoung looks down at the two blurry Yutas sprawled on him with soft disdain, and does not kiss any part of him.

"So we're just gonna walk down the aisle to Here Comes The Bride, walk out to Here Comes The Bride again and call it a day?"

"Sounds good to me."

 

 

Doyoung likes Halloween. He likes the candy, the air of spookiness and mystery in the air, the themed snacks and drinks and having the opportunity to, even for just one night, pretend to be literally anything but himself. From the perspective of someone who deals with decorations for a living, Halloween is a fantastic holiday. The choices are endless: any style from elegant to tacky to downright terrifying can work well, and there are a seemingly infinite number of party themes to play with. It's event planner heaven. On his own, he never has an excuse to decorate for it — it's too much money and effort to stick a bunch of pumpkins and plastic bats around his flat for him alone to look at (he won't even pretend anyone else would see them). So he actually loves Halloween weddings. He knows some planners absolutely loathe them, but he likes having a reason to decorate and having the time to do so delivered right into his hands.

On this particular evening, Doyoung is sitting on his living room floor preparing bags of party favours for the wedding on Halloween night. The soon-to-be-married couple consists of Jackson, a fencer from Hong Kong, and Mark, a gymnast from California. They met at the Summer Olympics when Jackson, widely favoured for the gold, injured himself shortly before the final in a freak accident in an Olympic village garden; Mark witnessed the incident and attempted to incompetently provide first aid. They have since retired from Olympic sports to open a martial arts studio. The wedding planning process has been a series of excited hand-waving aimlessly tossed out ideas by Jackson ("dead trees everywhere!" "dump fake blood all over that!" "how about a _giant tower of candles_!") followed by muted responses from Mark (respectively: "yeah that sounds good", "yeah that sounds good" and "dude, that's a major fire hazard"). The instructions he was given for the gift bags were "make them scary! freak people out!" (Jackson) and "yeah that sounds good" (Mark). Therefore, Doyoung is currently filling glass vials with the most blood-coloured wine he could find. He is occasionally sampling the wine, purely for quality control purposes.

Being home is a relief after the hell the rest of the day has been; one of his April couples decided to change their wedding date, Nightmare Client 2 proved she deserved this designation during a florist-related incident, his November couple's officiant suddenly had some "serious concerns about the order of the ceremony", Hyungwon and Changkyun required another round of relationship counselling and he was forced to eat _even more fucking cake_ for a March wedding. The evening has been surprisingly peaceful, however. He's even managed to light the autumn-scented candle he bought himself a few weeks ago and completely forgot about. His phone has been unusually quiet since he's returned (though he can credit this in part to snapping and turning off all email notifications with the flimsy justification that they were "draining the battery too quickly"). As glad as he is to have a break from his clients, however, he wouldn't mind a text from a friend. Yesterday, he caught himself talking to the plastic spiders as if they were actual human beings.

He's beyond shocked, however, when that text actually comes.

At first, he thinks the message must be a mistake. He's not seen that name on his phone screen in a long time. But no, he can clearly see in the message preview that it addresses him _by name._ He opens the full message.  
  


> From: Tiffany Hwang  
>  Hi Doyoung! Long time no talk :) Taeyeon and I got engaged, and we want you to plan our wedding! We're thinking of next November. Hope you're well!

  
Doyoung had no idea about this. Tiffany and Taeyeon had been in a relationship for a long time, so it makes sense, but he's still caught a bit off guard. Tiffany was a close friend of his during university; she was a few years older than him, and became like a big sister to him. They were both Event Management majors, and she always encouraged him to keep pursuing his dreams whenever he had moments of doubt. She went on to work in the fashion world, flying all around the globe to work on Fashion Weeks and fragrance launches and glamorous parties. Doyoung, of course, ended up … where he is now. Gradually, her jet-setting career and Doyoung's inability to commit to plans caused them to drift apart. Still, Doyoung loved her, and is ecstatic to see her text.  
  


> To: Tiffany Hwang  
>  I'd love to work with you. Congratulations! When did you get engaged?
> 
> From: Tiffany Hwang  
>  Yay! We got engaged in July :)

  
Three months ago. Doyoung has a horrible crashing-down feeling. He's even more out of the loop than he thought. No one told him about this — not her, and not anyone else in their circle of friends. Because, now that he thinks about it, it's been much more than three months since any of them have talked to him. Maybe it's partially his fault; if he ever checked social media, this information might have crossed his path sooner. But Doyoung is of the opinion that if it's really important to you that a certain person knows what's going on in your life, you'll give them the updates yourself, not wait for them to stumble across an online post. Clearly, Doyoung isn't a person she cares to celebrate her major life changes with anymore. He wonders how long it would have taken him to find out about this if she hadn't needed his services.

A few seconds later, an image preview pops up. He opens the picture. It's an adorable engagement photo, taken in a garden with summer flowers in full bloom. They're a gorgeous couple; they're both incredibly beautiful, and they look radiant with happiness. They're locked in a tight embrace, and Tiffany is flashing her impressively large ring with a smile so wide and genuine it brings a smile to his own face. But even as his lips move of their own accord, something deep down inside him becomes almost painfully hollow.

He scrolls up to see the last text from her was nine and a half months ago. It was "Happy New Year!"  
  


> To: Tiffany Hwang  
>  Oh, that's so cute! You look really beautiful.  
>  Let's set up a meeting for November. I'm looking forwards to working with you two. And congratulations again! I'm really happy for you.

  
It's not a lie. He really is.

And the thing is, this is great. He knows it's great. He'll be seeing his friends again, after — actually, he can't even remember how long it's been since he's seen either of them. He'll be seeing them a lot. And he knows that both Tiffany and Taeyeon are rich and very into ornate celebrations, so he's sure to get a big commission out of this wedding. But none of that really registers.

It's funny, really. It's funny what a few days and a few text messages can do. In that short span of time, all of his positive feelings of warmth and belonging from last Friday night have dissipated. Maybe they actually wore off once the alcohol did, and he'd not noticed until now.

Doyoung leaves his project strewn all over the floor and turns his phone off for the first time in eons. He heats up some of the cider Ten gifted him as part of an autumn-themed care package he definitely didn't tear up over (Ten _loves_ autumn), and curls up in bed with a book because he remembers that being one of the suggestions in the "Importance Of Emotional Self-Care" article Ten texted him a link to yesterday. (The book was also a gift from Ten; all Doyoung was told about it was that it was "uplifting in the end" and "very very good".) The words on the page keep going in and out of focus, and he burns his mouth on the cider. He just feels like a parody of someone in touch with their self-nurturing side, and he's getting a little too warm under this blanket.

Finally Doyoung gives up, tosses the book onto his desk, rolls out of bed, dumps a significant amount of rum in his cider and turns his phone back on. He goes for the email inbox he's been ignoring for several hours, and is immediately drowned under the deluge of incoming messages (right, _that's_ why he never turns those notifications off). He hasn't got time to self-nurture, and he hasn't got time to wallow. Besides, self-nurturing and wallowing aren't really his style. He prefers stressing and sulking.

At least, he must prefer them. That's the only explanation for why he spends so much time doing them.

 

 

Wedding party attire ends up one of two ways. It either looks amazing and classy and creates a beautiful put-together wedding party, or it's a tacky bad-taste mess. Thus Doyoung both appreciates and dreads the occasions his clients enlist his opinions during their attire decision process. On one hand, he has the potential to avert some disasters. On the other hand, people who have terrible taste are often completely convinced their taste is flawless and strongly attached to their choices, and don't react well to anyone disagreeing with them. Doyoung is relieved to see the options Taeyong, Johnny, Seulgi and Jaehyun have picked out all fall into the "classy and beautiful" category. After their last outing, he was concerned Yuta might try to steer the theme towards 50 Shades Of Inappropriate.

"Okay, I've narrowed it down to _this_ one and _this_ one," Seulgi says, clicking between two tabs on a wedding attire website. They're all huddled around Johnny's laptop at the Kitchen Island Headquarters, trying very hard not to fall all over each other. It took Jaehyun about sixty seconds to pick out the suits for the groomsmen and get them unanimously approved, but apparently the selection of the groomsmaid dresses had been going on for three hours by the time Doyoung arrived. It was heavily implied that a lot of that was due to Yuta's many, many Dress Opinions.

The two dresses Seulgi is clicking between are a knee-length sheath dress with a scoop neckline and a floor-length A-line dress with a sweetheart neckline. Both are sleeveless and chiffon, and Seulgi has selected a lovely ocean blue to match Johnny and Taeyong's wedding colours; they had finally settled on that approximate shade, along with a classic black and white. The palette does not include, as Yuta had so snarkily insisted at their first meeting, Doyoung Hair Lavender. Though the lavender hair didn't really last past July; it was a half-assed lavender blonde for another month before he gave up and settled for some kind of orange-ish blonde that requires a lot less bleaching time. Truthfully, his hair colour doesn't matter much. Ever since the beginning of September, all he's seen when he looks in the mirror is haggardness, exhaustion and despair.

"What about _this_ one?" Yuta says, nudging Seulgi's hand off the trackpad to click on a third tab. He circles the mouse insistently around the name of a dramatic floor-length one-shoulder dress with a mesh cutout waist — for some reason, he's selected it in red. Red is not one of the wedding colours.

"I already told you we're not picking that one!" Seulgi says, trying to push Yuta's hand out of the way before giving up and closing the tab with a keyboard shortcut instead. "Thank you for your very repeated suggestion, but I'm not picking a one-shoulder dress."

"One-shoulder dresses are great," Yuta protests.

"I'm not forcing all the groomsmaids to wear strapless bras. Those are awful," Seulgi counters.

"I agree with Seulgi," Doyoung says. He thinks one-shoulder dresses look nice and has no idea how awful strapless bras are, but he'll be damned if he'll pass up a chance to take Seulgi's side against Yuta.

"Thank you!" Seulgi exclaims. "The wedding planner agrees with me, so I win. And don't try opening any of your other fifty suggestions again. I'll clear the browser history if I have to."

Doyoung assists by forcefully removing Yuta's hand from the trackpad and stuffing it into his pocket where it can no longer encroach upon territory that is rightfully Seulgi's. Seulgi offers him an appreciative smile, and when she sees the baffled and affronted look on Yuta's face, she laughs.

And, oh. Seulgi has a wonderful laugh. It was impossible to miss the fact that she's absolutely gorgeous, but her laugh still leaves Doyoung blinking dumbly at her for a few moments. He snaps out of it fairly quickly — or at least he thinks so — but by the time he does, she's already returned to clicking back and forth between the dresses. Why are all Johnny and Taeyong's friends so attractive? Why do they all have absolutely breathtaking smiles? Was their friend group assembled through a casting call for "unfairly beautiful humans, 20-30 years old, pleasant personality preferred but not required if Yuta"? Doyoung needs answers, because this consistently plagues him.

"Let's vote on it," Seulgi finally decides. "Short dress or long dress? Yuta, you don't get a vote. You've used up your quota of sartorial input for the day."

Yuta turns away from the laptop screen haughtily. "I would have picked the one-shoulder dress as a write-in vote."

Seulgi diplomatically chooses to ignore him. The results of the vote declare the short sheath dress the winner (despite Yuta's muttering about none of them appreciating true style), and they all seem tremendously relieved that this contentious saga has finally concluded (with the exception of Yuta, who threatens to show up in the red dress himself until graciously deciding not to upstage the grooms at their own wedding).

"Okay, great! That was productive," Taeyong says, in a tone of voice that makes it clear he's trying to recast the past several hours of heated debate as part of a successful process. Doyoung is impressed at how well he's mastered one of the key skills of wedding planning. Taeyong extricates himself from the group still crowded around the laptop and heads over to the refrigerator. Slowly, the group unravels, stretching cramped limbs and relocating to seats or standing locations with a lot more breathing room. "Dinner and drinks, then. I'm making paella and palomas. You all get _three drinks each_ , and no more than that. This isn't becoming a repeat of that get-together in August."

"Yeah, that turned into … quite a night," Johnny reminisces, with a distant expression that leaves Doyoung wondering what on earth happened after his early departure. "And morning. And part of afternoon. Thanks to _some_ attendees."

"Don't suspect me!" Yuta protests indignantly, waving away all eyes that immediately fix on him. "Jaehyun was the one who came back to the party at 1AM with ten bottles of tequila!"

"It was only _nine_ ," Jaehyun corrects.

Doyoung is beginning to suspect they all think "wedding party" refers not only to the group of people at the centre of the festivities, but to the planning process itself.

"I'm going to make Amaretto sours for the second Wedding Party Party next month," Taeyong says from somewhere inside the refrigerator, handing a series of ingredients out to his willing assistant Johnny. Johnny is placing them on a countertop with one hand and rummaging in the liquor cabinet with the other. "It'll get us in the spirit of the cake. What better way to get in a spirit than with spirits?"

Doyoung's suspicions are confirmed.

"Doyoung, are you staying for dinner?" Johnny asks, briefly glancing over at him from behind a precariously balanced armful of bottles, vegetables and packages of meat.

"Can I …?" Doyoung says tentatively, hoping his voice doesn't sound too longing. For once, his unmanageable backlog of work isn't immediately pressing and his barrage of meetings for the day has ended. He is also completely out of food.

"Of course! We're inviting you." Taeyong emerges from the refrigerator to give him an encouraging smile, then heads straight for whatever alcohol Johnny has unearthed. "Please stay."

"I would love to. Thank you." The thought of food delights Doyoung. Now that he thinks about it, he can't remember the last time he was in proximity to it. Between the meetings and phone calls and constantly emerging crises, his day has been a blur of constant activity with pauses only to tame his perpetually building mountain of emails. It's now almost 8PM and the day seems to have sped by him, trampled him and left him in its dust. "Actually ... I think I forgot to eat today, so I really appreciate you feeding me."

"You forgot again?" Yuta looks up from his phone to frown across the island in Doyoung's direction. "You do that too much. It's not healthy to skip meals so often."

"I know, I know," Doyoung replies, rolling his eyes. It's not like he _tries_ to have an overloaded memory capacity, no time to live a normal life and an overall inability to feed himself properly. He definitely doesn't need to be scolded by Yuta, of all people.

"I'm serious, Doyoung." Yuta is looking at him intently, and something about the severity of the look makes Doyoung uncomfortable. He nearly squirms under the scrutiny and consternation, but there's something a little deeper behind it that makes him feel weirdly guilty for reasons he can't place. "It's really bad for you. If you do it too much, it can mess your body up."

"I _know_ ," Doyoung reiterates, with a little too much exasperation. "You don't have to act like my …" _mother_ , the saying usually ends, but that phrase gives him cognitive dissonance. It wouldn't be accurate, and he can't use that comparison until Yuta hasn't talked to him in four years.

Yuta's expression is sceptical. "Just … try a little harder to remember. If you develop habits like that, you'll regret it later."

The whole exchange has Doyoung lost. Yuta butting into conversations to express his thoughts about Doyoung's shortcomings is a familiar experience, but this way of doing it is very different. It's a lot more serious than Yuta's usual snark, and it catches him off-guard. He feels like he must be reading Yuta wrong, because Yuta seems almost _concerned_. There's something about the sudden change in Yuta's demeanour that seems like it should make sense if Doyoung could reason it out, but he's had a long day without proper nutrition and his overtaxed brain can't make any connections.

"What, do you _care_ about me or something?" Doyoung asks in a mocking tone he hopes will break the tension.

"Oh, heavens forbid I might care what happens to you," Yuta says, voice dripping with sarcasm, then lets out a snort of laughter. "Just kidding. Don't flatter yourself. It's just that this far into the planning, it would be inconvenient if you starved to death."

"Sorry the snuffing out of my mortal flame would _inconvenience_ you." Doyoung gives Yuta a withering look. "Your convenience is, of course, my life's priority."

In the background, Taeyong's already got the palomas mixed and has started on the paella. Doyoung, caught up in a stare-off with Yuta, only discovers this when a drink appears in his hand. "Sorry for the wait," says Jaehyun, who is in the process of placing it there. "Your glass of "make Yuta bearable" has finally arrived."

"You're mean," Yuta informs Jaehyun. "And for the record, I was being very nice to Doyoung. I _am_ capable of that." He stuffs his phone into his pocket without another glance in their direction, and stalks off to retrieve a drink for himself.

"Oh, hey, look at that. It worked," Jaehyun says, looking across the room to judge the distance that has now been put between them and Yuta. Doyoung muffles laughter. "For real, though, was he actually being nice to you? If he wasn't, let me know."

"I think he meant to be nice? I don't know. It's hard to tell with him," Doyoung admits. His glass of "make Yuta bearable" tastes like grapefruit and tequila. He likes it. "Has he stopped talking shit about me behind my back?"

"Yeah. Taeyong and Johnny put him pretty firmly in his place a while ago," Jaehyun says, with a grin and a sip of his own drink. "He doesn't really talk about you now. I mean, sometimes he mentions you, but it's not rude stuff — just neutral stuff. Like where you guys went or what you got done."

"Oh." Doyoung feels weirdly disappointed. Like if Yuta isn't saying anything mean about him, he hasn't got anything to say about him at all. He's not sure why that bothers him, since it's not like he cares about Yuta's opinion of him, but it does. Maybe it's because after all the aggravation Yuta has put him through every time they've met, it's slightly maddening that it's apparently not been any more to Yuta than "where we went and what we got done". "Well, I'm glad he's not doing that anymore. Thanks for telling me."

"Yeah, no problem," Jaehyun replies. Across the kitchen, Yuta has been roped into helping with dinner. Doyoung can't help but smirk at the sight of Yuta clumsily chopping bell peppers while trying to distract Taeyong long enough to grab a drink and make a run for it. Taeyong is having none of it. "Well, it looks like they've got that under control, so let's join Seulgi in the living room. I believe that's the designated area for people who don't plan on helping."

"Sounds good to me," says Doyoung, and drains his drink.

Taeyong doesn't get the paella done until they're all two or three cocktails in. They're not as strong as his caipirinhas, but they're close. Apparently Taeyong "cooks from the heart" rather than directly following recipes, and makes drinks the same way. Doyoung questions the wisdom of this approach to cocktail mixing, but when it comes to his cooking, it absolutely works. The paella is delicious. He attempts to mind his manners, but still ends up nearly inhaling it like a starving creature, which he is (or one who needs to offset Taeyong-strength cocktails on an empty stomach, which he also is).

"Okay, let's discuss the plan for November," Taeyong says once they've finished eating and cleared away the dishes, looking around the table with an air of formality. "We'll get together, measure the wedding party for their attire and have some fun. Johnny and I will handle the food and drinks. Jaehyun, Seulgi and Doyoung can measure people. Yuta can … um, I'll come up with something. But this time, it really _is_ staying under control. The people who spun it out of control last time will not do so again."

"Don't suspect me!" Yuta immediately says, before anyone can give him a pointed look. They do so anyway.

"Let's be a little more lenient with Yuta," Seulgi says. Yuta starts to thank her for intervening on his behalf, but is cut off by her continuing, "We always get great stories when we let him get drunk and do questionable things."

Doyoung perks up, intrigued. "Would you mind sharing some of these stories?"

"No. No," Yuta says, waving his hands in a futile attempt to stop this from happening.

"Maybe a few," Seulgi replies.

" _No_ ," Yuta gasps, but Johnny shuts him up by sliding him another cocktail (despite a disapproving look from Taeyong). Yuta appears to size up the situation, and then accept the cocktail as sufficient compensation for his impending humiliation due to the inevitability of it.

"Okay, let me think of a good one …" Seulgi muses. As it turns out, she thinks of several. She recounts the time Yuta gave a party limo the wrong directions and nearly ended them all up in a different country; the time he racked up a bar tab indistinguishable from a medium-sized mortgage payment and then paid it off with the winnings of a spontaneous poker game he took part in despite not actually knowing how to play; the time he wandered into an unknown part of a shady club while looking for the bathroom, discovered the whole thing was a money laundering operation and ended up having to flee the city; and the time he fell off a cruise ship in circumstances that aren't entirely clear, but seemed to involve a salsa band and a plastic flamingo.

Doyoung laughs so hard he almost cries at several points. The stories are genuinely hilarious, but he suspects the alcohol might be making everything a little funnier … and, well, Seulgi. They might be a little funnier because they're being told by Seulgi. Something about her draws him in. She's beautiful, and there's a charm to her personality that makes him think he could listen to her talk forever.

"That was incredible," Doyoung says when she finally concludes, between intermittent laughter. Yuta is no longer giving them all displeased looks over his recompense paloma; being the centre of attention, it seems, has made up for being the butt of the joke. After he catches his breath, he tells her, "You tell amazing stories."

"The narration is mine, but the ridiculous content is all Yuta's," Seulgi replies, with a smile that sends a rush through his heart.

Doyoung suspects he might have been looking at Seulgi too long. But she's gorgeous, and it's hard to take his eyes off her. Doyoung has _really_ been losing track of time a lot lately while looking at Johnny and Taeyong's attractive friends. Maybe he didn't look too weird staring at her while she was telling stories, but he probably looks weird now. It feels like it's been a pretty long time, so he forcibly removes his eyes from her direction.

"Sorry, I don't want to be rude, but I have to check my messages," Doyoung says, indicating his phone and then the living room. "I'm just going to head over there for a few minutes and, um, read things." He takes his water, begins the relocation process and somehow ends up on the sofa. The coffee table in front of him is scattered with Yuta's stuff: printouts of a few apartment listings with random words jotted on them, a collage of photos of a strangely shaped room with extremely dated appliances under a pen scrawl of _fix this hideous kitchen_ , a lengthy note from Mark written on a newspaper crossword puzzle in blue permanent marker and something that looks like around 20 pages of hopelessly complicated legalese. It's kind of funny. Now it's _him_ being a home-office-free-food leech in _Yuta's_ spot.

Doyoung unlocks his phone with trepidation, cringing at the notification numbers that have managed to triple during the brief time he wasn't glued to the screen. Somehow, as a bright-eyed ridiculously optimistic planner's assistant in university, he managed to avoid figuring out how much of his future job would be answering fucking emails. Somehow, he chalked the number of emails he was forced to answer up to "trivial assistant work" without putting it together that a planner _without_ an assistant would be answering those emails _themselves_. By the time he came to fully understand it during his apprenticeship, it was too late. He laughs at his naivete. Maybe Yuta has the right idea, and he should get an assistant to do all the boring parts of his job for him — except, oh, wait, unlike Yuta the fancy penthouse purveyor, an overworked underling is not within his budget.

He tries to focus, despite his mind's resistance to dealing with whatever not-his-problem things certain clients are trying to make his problem today, but — but. Seulgi's voice keeps cutting into his thoughts. He ends up looking away from the 12 paragraph stream-of-consciousness email written by a groom experiencing indecision about every single tentative choice they've made so far, and over at her. And maybe he shouldn't've done that if he wanted to get anything else done, because he just ends up hypnotised by the way her hair falls around her shoulders and her eyes crinkle up when she laughs.

"She has a girlfriend." Yuta's voice is suddenly right beside him. He jumps, almost dropping his forgotten phone. "Also, she's gay, so … yeah, no."

"What? I'm not — I didn't —" Doyoung quickly snaps his eyes away from Seulgi, turns them to where Yuta is (which is much too close) and frowns. "Why were you watching me?"

"I wasn't. I happened to look in your direction, and you were staring at her with blatantly obvious hearts in your eyes. For the whole night. It was pretty pathetic." Yuta snorts. Doyoung curses the universe for this turn of events. Of course Yuta would come back to this sofa; there's probably a magnet in his ass that pulls it towards these cushions. He should've sat somewhere else. "Is that really your approach to flirting? No wonder you're single. Though it's probably a good job that you just stared instead of saying anything to her, because I'm sure you would have embarrassed yourself."

Doyoung narrows his eyes. "What makes you think I would've embarrassed myself?"

"Well, first of all, you would be trying to chat up a taken lesbian." Yuta's tone is a maddening mix of amused and derisive. He looks over to where Seulgi is enthusiastically discussing jewellery options with Taeyong, and slowly sips his cocktail. For his own sake, that had better be the same one as before; it apparently doesn't take much for Yuta to become way too messy to be in any position to cast judgement on someone else. "And let's be honest, Doyoung, you're embarrassing in general."

"Oh, am I? Well, at least I only embarrass myself, instead of embarrassing my perfectly nice friends by being an asshole," Doyoung snaps.

"You don't have to get sensitive," Yuta says, sounding far too unbothered for the conversation at hand, and slowly turns his gaze back to Doyoung. "I didn't mean anything by it."

Doyoung gives him a scathing look. "You told me the reason I'm single is because I'm too embarrassing to date."

"That's not what I said, but if that's how it sounded to you, then, sorry." Yuta finishes his drink and puts the empty glass down on the one millimeter of the coffee table not covered in his Real Estate Mess, then eyes Doyoung critically. "Hm. Maybe I'm looking at this the wrong way. Given your reactions to Seulgi and the cake baker — what was her name — Hani, maybe you just have really bad gaydar, leading you to pursue only lesbians and/or straight men."

Doyoung opens his mouth to protest, but he can't think of a good enough retort. Somehow _I have given up on pursuing anyone actually_ and _none of my many past failed first dates have been with lesbians or straight men ... I think_ don't make a very good case for him. Besides, it's not really worth it. He doesn't actually care about Yuta's opinion of his love and sex life, or lack thereof. He doesn't care about Yuta's opinion of _anything_. So instead he says, "I think _you're_ the one who has trouble figuring out who might be interested in you, because you're still talking to someone who clearly wants you to stop."

"It's funny how your way of trying to get me to shut up is always talking to me more." Yuta gives him an unbearably smug smirk that tempts Doyoung to forcefully remove it from his irritating handsome face. "If I didn't know better, I might think you like me."

"Okay, are we not doing the getting-along-thing anymore?" Doyoung says, finally running out of patience. He turns on the sofa to face Yuta directly, not bothering to keep the harshness out of his voice. "Let me know, please, because I can never tell with you."

"What? We're getting along just fine," Yuta says, sounding fairly certain.

"Are we? Is _this_ getting along to you?" Doyoung waves his hands in frustration. His phone slips out of his grasp, but miraculously lands on the coffee table with its fall cushioned by a laptop case. Part of him is beginning to suggest he might be taking this a _little_ too seriously, but the rest of him is convinced that verbally eviscerating Yuta is completely justified. "When you do that thing where you just say whatever you want without thinking about how it will sound to other people — because whatever, it's just shit-talking, who cares if it pisses someone off or hurts them — that's not _getting along_ to me. That's just you being an asshole."

"You really escalated that, didn't you?" The certainty has slipped off Yuta's face, and it's been replaced with something disillusioned. "Maybe you're just assuming the worst of me. You still think of me as by default having bad intentions, don't you?"

"With the way you act sometimes, it's hard not to!" Doyoung indicates the situation at hand. "I don't know you like that. We're not close enough for you to just say whatever to me and I'm meant to know it's not ill-intentioned. Even if you think things are okay between us, you still have to think about how you come off. And yes, it seems like pretty bad intentions to make fun of someone and then hypothesise about why they're single."

"I was just teasing you," Yuta says. "Teasing, not taunting." He breaks the eye contact between them, gazing across the room at the others beginning the November party planning discussion. "Despite whatever animosity you're projecting onto me, I wasn't trying to be mean with my hypothesising. I wasn't even being serious. I don't know the reason, and I don't care. For all I know, it could be your habit of getting aggressively defensive about things way too quickly. But at least you know it's not your looks. I mean, you look a little like a rabbit, but still. It's definitely not your looks."

Yuta gets up from the sofa, grabs his empty glass and walks away, leaving Doyoung smouldering in vexation and wondering what the hell _that_ means.

 _Teasing, not taunting_ , Yuta said. Doyoung's not sure what the difference is.

And just like that, Yuta has ruined another fun night. He always manages to say the wrong thing, and then yet again Doyoung can't have anything nice. He really thought they had reached … _some_ kind of understanding with each other at the bakery in September, and it seemed to be working out for them at the club two weeks ago, but now he suspects they might've interpreted that understanding differently. It's beginning to seem like they're just going to keep getting caught up on the places where they're not compatible. And Doyoung hasn't got time for that confusion, or that negativity. He's got a million things to do and a million sources of stress all attacking him at once; he doesn't need Yuta to attack him too.

Doyoung finishes his water, retrieves his phone and slowly gets to his feet. Taeyong said he didn't want this to turn into a repeat of the party in August, but in a way, it did. He's going to hide his feelings, say his goodbyes and leave while everyone else is still having fun because Yuta ruined it for him. It feels like they're regressing, and it's discouraging. A huge weight that lifted off his shoulders a few short weeks ago feels like it's fallen right back on.

It's fine. He's got plenty of other things to worry about anyway. And, if he's honest, he wasn't expecting he'd get along with Yuta up until the day of the wedding. He didn't have any real expectations for how long the peace between them would last. But it would've been nice, so nice, if he could have enjoyed tonight. And it would've been nice if their truce could hold.

 

 

Jennie and Lisa are one of Doyoung's favourite couples he's worked with. Despite the drama that plagued every step of the "make their wedding happen" process, he really enjoys them as people. Therefore, he happily accepts when they invite him to meet them for coffee. His acceptance grows even happier when they mention they're bringing a newly engaged couple they're referring to him. Getting to interact with them in a crisis-free environment while gaining an opportunity to make money is a very promising situation. He meets them at a conveniently-located coffee shop with a slightly hipster-y but comfortably low-key ambiance; it's the coffee shop he brought them to for their first meeting, and it brings a smile to his face that this is the place they chose. They both look absolutely radiant, which is probably due to a combination of Newlywed Glow and the removal of a massive source of stress from their lives.

"How have you been!" Lisa asks him brightly once they're all comfortably settled at a corner table with their coffee.

"I am continuing to exist," Doyoung says, and lightens this depressingly factual analysis with a laugh. "Let's talk about you, though. I'm sure you've been up to some interesting things."

As it turns out, they have. Lisa and Jennie take turns telling him about their honeymoon in Hawaii, including a few pictures and videos that range from beautiful shots of them kissing in front of a sunset to Jennie laughing at Lisa being crashed over by giant waves. They've also moved in together. This involved spending several days living amongst a strange blanket-nest-and-cardboard-box maze after all their furniture deliveries were shipped to the wrong flat; accidentally setting their refrigerator on fire, in a strange turn of events they can't adequately explain; and enduring Junhwe, Bobby and Hanbin throwing them an ill-prepared surprise housewarming party (with predictable results). All in all, they seem to have had a pretty eventful few weeks. They're still in that newlywed phase where, when Lisa's not draped over Jennie or trying to kiss her, they keep their fingers laced together on the table between them. Lisa was an extremely affectionate person to begin with, and having a wedding ring on her finger only seems to double it. Their rings are engraved with each other's names. It's all so sweet it makes Doyoung nearly melt. It looks so nice to have someone who likes you that much. He absolutely can't relate.

"Our mothers have been asking about you," Jennie says, which puts a halt to Doyoung vicariously living through his clients (he does this a lot; it's the best he's going to get). "They want to know how you're doing."

"And if you found someone to date yet," Lisa adds, with a little eye roll. "They _really_ wanted to know that."

"Um. That would be a no," Doyoung admits, looking down into the depths of his latte. Somehow he's completely forgotten to drink it, and a foam cat is staring back up at him. "A complete no. But you can tell them I did, if that will make them happier."

Jennie nods, with a wry smile. "Oh, it will. We'll do that. It'll keep them from asking if we gave you the fifteen numbers of their friends' single children they sent with us."

Doyoung winces. "Wow. That's a lot. Yes, okay. I am definitely in a very real and not at all made up relationship. With an actual guy who absolutely exists."

"What does he do?" Lisa asks. "They're going to want to know what he does. They made sure to point out which numbers belong to doctors."

"He's a real estate agent," Doyoung blurts out, because that's the first occupation that comes to mind. He could have said doctor. Why didn't he say doctor? They _gave_ him doctor. His subconscious must still be bothered by the Property Related Clutter he wasn't able to organise, and somehow spit that out.

"Great. We'll make sure to tell them." Lisa grins. "I hope you have a wonderful relationship with your sexy real estate agent boyfriend."

Doyoung does not want the images that sentence brings up. He has given a very bad answer.

The other couple finally arrives, running a bit late due to having to mitigate the damage from a chewing-everything-up spree their recently obtained Shiba Inu puppy went on. Although they were technically referred to him by Jennie and Lisa, Doyoung already knows them. They're Jisoo and Chaeyoung, who were in their adventure of a wedding: Jisoo was the maid of honour and Jennie's ex-girlfriend, and Chaeyoung was a bridesmaid and Jisoo's current girlfriend. Doyoung is still amazed how none of this complicated history poses any problems for the four of them.

Normally, Doyoung and any potential clients will have an initial meeting to ask each other a lot of questions and determine whether they would be a good fit for each other. There can be disastrous consequences when a couple and their planner aren't on the same page about their expectations for the process, or if they simply wouldn't work well together for any number of reasons. Getting to know a couple is crucial before he decides whether to lock himself into a long-term contract with them. (In theory, that is. In practice, he usually takes almost anyone who hasn't got any glaringly obvious red flags, or will be providing him with a commission large enough to put up with a whole parade of them. Nightmare Client, for instance, paid for several months of rent.) With couples that don't know him already, it can be a lengthy process. With Johnny and Taeyong, despite how laid back they are, it took almost an hour. But due to the friend-of-friend referrals chain that a lot of his new clients come to him through, many of the interviews are pretty short. These couples have usually already made up their minds that they want to work with him, and have a general idea of what he's like and whether they can tolerate him. Therefore, those meetings are more along the lines of Doyoung asking what they require from him, them asking how much they have to pay him, then various signatures being scrawled on a contract.

This time, however, Doyoung is surprised to see the whole meeting playing out before his eyes — between Lisa and Jennie, and Jisoo and Chaeyoung.

"We want him to do exactly what he did for your wedding," Jisoo says. "It went so much better for you than all our _other_ friends who are getting married, so that's what we want. We already know he can meet our expectations, so that's good."

"Infinitely better," Lisa agrees. "And affordable. He only charges 15% of the wedding budget, which according to Jennie's research is on the low end of standard commission. Scandalously underpriced considering he does basically everything for you. Like, everything."

Doyoung's going to have to write this date down somewhere. He may have just witnessed the world's first ever instance of a client saying a wedding planner is _under_ priced.

"That's not too much. We can afford that," Chaeyoung says.

"He's definitely worth it," Jennie promises. "It would have been a nightmare without him. He did an amazing job. He was so helpful and supportive, and very organised. He also replies to emails and texts almost worryingly quickly. I'm not totally sure he sleeps."

"He's great at dealing with family drama and handling difficult people," Lisa adds. "I mean, you saw how much our mothers loved him, and they barely even like _anyone_."

"And he also makes an amazing therapist for all kinds of wedding anxieties, whether it's something you're worried about yourself or stress that's coming from …" Jennie and Lisa exchange long-suffering looks before Jennie finishes, "... outside sources."

"And he's such a cutie!" Lisa says, momentarily detaching herself from Jennie to squeeze him in a tight hug. She gives even clingier hugs than Ten. Doyoung gives up on trying to breathe. "Seriously. He's adorable. There is no way you won't love him."

Doyoung should probably speak up at this point. It feels like he's lying by omission by letting them go on praising him like this. It sounds like Lisa and Jennie are trying to sell the services of a completely different person, and have Doyoung sat here by mistake. At one point he could have claimed to be helpful and organised, but these days it feels like he's just doing the best he can to make the things people want happen while scrambling to keep everything in a vaguely understandable order. And, even more critically, to actually understand it. Last night he accidentally dropped a folder of papers and got a venue contract, a catering contract and a musician contract all mixed up with each other and it took his sleep-deprived brain ten pages to notice. He also spends too much time being secretly aggravated at people to count as genuinely supportive. Not to mention the wealth of evidence contradicting the claims that it's difficult for people not to like him.

And he'd like to agree with the endorsement of his handling-difficult-people skills — after all, he's been the outlet of frustration for unrelentlessly demanding clients' most stressed-out moments, dealt with the kinds of people who plan celebrity weddings and survived a year of Nightmare Client — but, well. There is a glaring counter-example. The amount of times he's lashed out at Yuta by now is embarrassing and unprofessional. Yuta just manages to test his patience to the absolute limit in way no one else can. He doesn't know _why_ , because if anyone should make him snap at them, it should have been that stunning example of a bridezilla who once flung her wedding dress at him and told him she'd rather be buried in it than get married in it until he brought it back to her with five more layers of tulle. But somehow, Yuta has inflicted upon him the exact kind of irritation he can't stand. He has found the Achilles heel of Doyoung's patience.

So Doyoung should say something. Hearing that people genuinely believe these things about him makes him feel weirdly like a fraud, like some act he's putting on has actually fooled them. It makes him feel guilty. He feels like his career has become a "fake it until you make it" situation — except for the part where he actually _had_ made it, but then somewhere along the line he had to begin faking it to maintain what he had.

"Okay. He sounds amazing. We like him," Chaeyoung decides. She and Jisoo exchange a little smile.

"We already liked him, though," Jisoo adds. "He did so well during your wedding that I'm sure he's a wonderful person in general."

And that gets right to the heart of it, really. He's not that wonderful of a person; he just makes a good show of it. But that doesn't matter, and he's been struggling to keep reminding himself it doesn't matter. What matters is that the facade holds. The mess behind the mask is inconsequential as long as no one sees it. They want the professional facade, and as long as they get it, ugly realities have no effect. All he has to do is continue to be the person he's been at his best moments, whether it's real or not. The problem is, he's been having a lot of difficulty with that lately. It's been hard to continue to be himself. He doesn't know when or why it started, but the jumble of doubts he's carried around for years has entered another one of the phases where it grows and tangles and starts to whisper ugly things to him in a voice he's not heard in a very long time in reality but can still hear inside his head. Maybe he's just been pushing through it for so long that this was way overdue.

"Here's his contract," Jennie says, handing them a few papers from the folder Doyoung placed on the table at the beginning of the meeting and then forgot about. "It just says what he'll do for you, which you already know; what he requires from you, which is really straightforward; a couple little terms and conditions things, which are pretty standard; and then what you have to pay him, which you also already know. Sign at the bottom right here."

"I have a pen," Lisa chimes in helpfully, fishing around in her oversized designer handbag and emerging with a sparkly purple gel pen.

Jisoo and Chaeyoung both scribble their signatures on the lines next to Jennie's finger within a matter of seconds, then narrowly avoid a macchiato-related disaster as they slide the papers across the table to Doyoung. No specific numbers or dates have been written on the contract yet. They have also not taken a copy for themselves. They don't seem to notice.

Jisoo gives him a warm smile. "We can't wait to work with you."

"I know it will be a great wedding if you're working on it," Chaeyoung says, then checks her phone and gasps. "Oh my god, we're running so late to meet Chaerin! We totally lost track of time!"

"It's okay! We can still make it in time!" Lisa exclaims, checking her own phone. "But only if we start sprinting, like, right now!"

In an instant the four of them have grabbed their bags, squished Doyoung in millisecond-long hugs and dashed out the door.

Doyoung sits there blinking in confusion for several seconds, watching the door swing shut behind them. He looks down at the unfinished contract, then back up at the door. In the background, some kind of electronic-ish indie song plays. He still has not touched his latte.

He's also not said a single word throughout the entirety of the business portion of the meeting. It's strange, what he just witnessed. It feels like he's just watched the facade being picked up and handed over to someone else. Maybe that's not a bad thing. He definitely couldn't've sold his services today nearly as successfully as Jennie and Lisa did. Maybe it's better to let other people decide what he is until he can get out of this place where he doesn't like what he _feels_ like he is.

Doyoung is undeniably, conspicuously alone in the far corner of the buzzing coffee shop. The electronic-ish indie music seems to have gotten louder, and the overlapping chatter of conversation has become more pressing. He puts the papers back in the folder, stuffs it into his bag, gazes down at a small cluster of knots in the wood table that looks kind of like a Rorschach test and finally takes a sip of his coffee.

 

 

Doyoung should have seen this coming. His last wedding went so well: it was a short uncomplicated ceremony and small subdued reception with a croquembouche instead of a cake. It was beautiful, smooth and devoid of any crises. So of course he was overdue for a horrific disaster.

At 10AM on the morning of the wedding, Doyoung shows up to Mark and Jackson's venue and discovers he's locked out. The sheer amount and complexity of the decorations means it's going to require several hours to get everything set up for the reception, and he's meant to also oversee the set-up for the ceremony during part of that time. Everything, start to finish, must be completed by the start of the ceremony at 4PM. That time window sounds a lot longer in theory than it will be in execution.

However, that's the overarching long-term concern. The more immediately pressing issue is that, in an alarmingly short time, various vendors and set-up teams will be arriving and Doyoung hasn't got anywhere for them to _go_. And can't guarantee he ever will. None of his contacts for the venue are answering their phones, his desperate emails have gone unreplied to and he can't get a hold of anyone. Time seems to be moving a lot faster than it should be. He is slowly growing frantic.

"Hi, it's Doyoung. Again," Doyoung says to the venue's event coordinator's answering machine, his pacing getting quicker and quicker. "Sorry to call for the fourth time, but any confirmation at all that I'll still be able to hold a wedding here would be nice. A wedding in a few short hours. I look forwards to _finally_ hearing back from you." The closing is a little passive aggressive, but Doyoung's already past the point of no return on that. He's been ending his emails with "please advise".

Worst case scenarios flash before his eyes in a nightmarish montage of catering trolleys colliding with an entire forest worth of faux dead trees, a confused accordion player becoming hopelessly entangled in extra-long vines and expensive DJ equipment hurtling into a sangria fountain. This transitions smoothly into a sea of disappointed faces belonging to Mark and Jackson's loved ones, surrounded by abstract auras of all the time and money they spent to be here today. It's horrifying, and very ironic; he spent nine months trying to design a scary setting for this event, but the most frightening thing about the location ended up being completely unintentional. An extra layer of awful emerges when he realises he'll have to explain this to the couple. He doesn't think he could give any bad news to Jackson. He suspects that every time someone drains the joy out of Jackson's eyes, an angel loses its wings.

After another few seconds of self-indulgent panic, Doyoung begins thinking in overdrive. He needs contingency plans. If the worst comes to pass regarding this venue, could they somehow hold a stripped-down version of the event outside? Is there anywhere nearby they could relocate it on such short notice? Should he start calling vendors to ask them to delay their arrival, or does he want them to arrive on time in case the place is unlocked and they need to put things together right away? He doesn't know. He's exhausted and can't think straight. He's been running on only a few scattered hours of sleep for so long that his brain is trapped in a fog he's struggling to pull it out of. An indeterminate time passes in a haze of pacing and panicking and planning, interspersed with more texts and emails; none of the plans come together enough for him to begin implementing them. It's all a mess of uncertainty and confusion and total lack of information, and so much of it is out of his hands. He feels absolutely helpless. It's a horrible feeling. He's teetering on the brink of sanity when someone _finally_ shows up. Someone with a key.

"Hey!" the someone calls out, far too cheerfully. Doyoung has never seen this person before in his life. "Sorry about the wait. I'll let you in."

"Yes, that would be good," Doyoung replies between gritted teeth. "Sorry, but who are you? And where is the event coordinator, facility manager and _all_ of the people I've been communicating with for the past year? Why are they no longer communicating with me?"

"I'm one of the custodians," the guy replies. "There was a mix-up. The event coordinator remembered the date as _November_ 31st, so she's out of the country. The facility manager is with her — yeah, we suspect they're a thing, but anyway. There was also some confusion about when the set-up crew's meant to arrive, so they'll be here about two hours before the ceremony, I think? So there won't be any tables or chairs until then. Sorry. Hope that's okay."

"Not really, no!" Doyoung laughs hysterically. November 31st does not even exist. "When you say no tables or chairs, what exactly do you mean by that!"

The custodian turns away to, at long last, unlock the reception hall door. "Y'know, buffet tables, the tables people sit at during the reception, the chairs for those and the ceremony … whatever tables and chairs there usually are."

Doyoung laughs again. "Okay! Great! The caterers will put the food and tableware in mid-air, we'll stick a bunch of decorations on nothing and even more where they might not actually go, then at the last minute we'll scramble around setting giant furniture up, moving and rearranging everyone and everything, putting all the other things on where they go and praying we finish on time!"

"Yeah, that's all I've got, sorry. I'm just as lost on this as you are." The custodian leads him inside. "I'll see if I can get them to come any earlier. Okay, hope everything works out. I'll be around if you need me," he says, then abruptly vanishes.

Doyoung stands in the middle of the dark and empty reception hall, absolutely stunned. "That's okay! That is completely fucking okay!" he says to the literally no one listening, and begins laughing again. "I love racing against time to avoid devastating failure! This is totally fucking fine!"

But obviously it's not. "Midair" and "nowhere" are not actual valid locations, and any plan that involves potentially ruining the order of a lot of things in order to fix a different issue is never a good one. Even if the set-up crew can come earlier, it may not be early enough — and could actually introduce _more_ problems, depending on how all the vendors' schedules are proceeding at the time. Everything is a giant question mark. The only thing he knows for certain is that this is one of the most confusing and shockingly unprofessional situations he's encountered, and he absolutely did not see it coming. But somehow, this is _entirely fucking okay_. In fact, it's a little worrying how okay it is. He is still manically laughing. This mindset will likely not lead to anything good.

Doyoung meanders over to a nearby lightswitch panel and hits one at random, then wanders around the room performing a vague inspection to ensure nothing is terribly amiss. Miraculously, nothing is. He then takes inventory of what can actually be done soon. The lighting and some bigger decorations would be going up before anything else is put in place anyway, and a few more should also be fine. So it's not ideal, but there's something.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, said lighting and decorations should already be here. Should have been a _while_ ago. Amongst the shock of the ridiculousness unfolding with the venue, it slipped his mind that _the decorations should have arrived by now_. Just as he fishes out his phone, it chimes. He struggles to read the incoming text through exhaustion-blurred vision — it's from his contact at the party rental company, and it says _Sry huge accident trucks stuck in traffic will be late shld be 1hr/1.5hr sry see u soon_.

"Oh my god," Doyoung says to the empty air. "Oh my god." Just like that, he's helpless again.

The only thing he can do is unload his car, and so he does. He trudges back and forth for several trips, dumping everything onto the reception hall floor. It should all go in a nearby storage room, but what's the point? There's nothing for it to be in the way of, and he hasn't got the energy to take more steps than necessary when this whole task feels futile. When he's done, he steps back and looks at the pitiful assortment of things. They only make the enormous empty room look bigger by comparison. It's all pretty frivolous: DIY projects, party favours, tablecloths, components to assemble and finishing touches with nothing to finish. There are so many things to place at the last minute, and yet so few to guarantee will actually be here. It's the theory of relativity at work. The laughing resumes.

Mark and Jackson show up forty-five minutes later to find Doyoung sprawled on the floor assembling centerpieces. He eventually moved everything else to the storage room along with a vampire costume he'll be presumably change into at some point, then began doing literally the only thing he could. He squints up at them through the dimness, briefly sees two blurry copies of each of them, abandons his messy assemblages and struggles to his feet.

"What's up! It is wedding day, my dudes!" Jackson says jubilantly, pulling Doyoung into an enthusiastic handshake-hug-thing that disorients his conception of space and time. He releases Doyoung, who briefly stumbles, and looks around the room. "Woah. This place is huge and not what I remembered. When it's dark and empty, it looks like the void."

"Yeah. Places look different when they're not bright and filled with stuff," Mark says. "Great observation, man."

"Um. About the … darkness and emptiness," Doyoung says hesitantly. "I'm working on that. But the lights and decorations and some tables should have already been here except I got locked out and nobody was here and now _more_ people aren't here and won't be until I don't know when and no one knows what's happening including me, so —" He realises he's incoherently rambling, and cuts himself off. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." He looks down at the floor in shame, hoping he's not shaking and they won't be upset. He can't handle anyone being unhappy with him right now, or making his clients unhappy in general.

"Hey, it's cool." Jackson puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Seriously, it's cool. No apologies. We're not mad at you."

It's not cool. _Jackson_ is cool, because he's wonderful and patient and not bothered by many things. But the _situation_ is not cool.

"Yeah, it's not you, man. We don't blame you. Don't worry, it'll get figured out." Mark gives him an encouraging smile.

It will get figured out, because _Doyoung_ will have to figure it out. But he appreciates their understanding and knows Mark's just trying to help, so he forces a smile in return. "Thank you."

"Well, shit. Sorry about all the panic and confusion," Jackson says, and turns to Mark. "I told you we should've got bamboozle insurance for this whole affair."

"That's the "Remedies For Breach Of Contract" section on all the papers you've been signing," Doyoung says tactfully. "Anyway, thank you for understanding, and I'm sorry again —"

"No apologies," Jackson reminds him. "You're great, okay? So just keep being great." Doyoung gives him a shaky smile, this one a little more genuine. It's at this moment the door opens. Jackson looks over at it, and his eyes go wide. "Woah. Forest of dead trees and strobe lights."

Doyoung almost cries in relief. "Yes. Okay. Good. I'll go deal with that."

"Cool. We're gonna pick our parents up from their hotel and take them to lunch. See you in a few hours," Mark says, and then they make their way through the influx of items and out the door.

This time, Doyoung's smile is real. For the first time today, he feels like he might survive until then.

  


That feeling doesn't last long.

It starts okay at first. The lights and decorations that comprise the setting are going up, and it's proceeding smoothly. However, someone from the party rental company finally decides to tell him there's _another_ truck, everything _else_ is in it, and it's still on its way. Conversely, the custodian doesn't tell him he did, in fact, get the set-up crew to come earlier. So when the rest of the decorations arrive and are being unloaded, tables and chairs suddenly begin happening. Before Doyoung can figure out who to talk to about that, the caterers arrive, because the many delays have pushed things so far back they're now overlapping with other vendor schedules. And before Doyoung can figure out who to talk to about _that_ , the florists arrive. This is a huge and ornate wedding, so there's a lot of _everything_ , and a lot of people handling that everything. With this level of activity and disorganised mayhem, it's impossible to establish communication with anyone, let alone with everyone at once. It's impossible to establish _anything_.

So now Doyoung's got huge vine and flower arrangements, lengthy processions of trolleys of food, giant banquet hall sized furniture and a million decorations of all shapes and sizes going everywhere and yet nowhere, but still going into each others' paths in the process. It's a confusing, multi-faceted traffic jam where nothing is progressing but way too much is happening. He's running around like crazy, trying to direct people to places and come up with temporary solutions and configurations, but what little help he can offer isn't enough. Time is racing by, and he's meant to be getting the ceremony set-up started by now, but then he discovers the custodian didn't unlock _that_ room so no one can get into it. It's the nightmare montage bleeding into reality, enveloping him in its ghastly world, and it's spinning and swirling and he can't remember how to breathe. He's panicking.

In desperation, Doyoung breaks out of the chaos and pulls out his phone. He opens his favourite contacts list and taps the only name on it. As it rings he finds himself fighting back tears, and god, this is so sad. He's meant to be the one who keeps everything in order, solves everyone's problems and handles all the disasters the universe throws at him, and yet here he is on the verge of a breakdown. Maybe if he'd slept more than two hours a night for the past week — no, he can't blame his vulnerability on mere lack of sleep. That's just an excuse to avoid facing the fact that he's weak, he's a mess and this is yet another pathetic display of unprofessionalism. He's really gone downhill.

"Ten," Doyoung chokes out as soon as the call is picked up. "Please help me."

"Oh my god, are you okay?" Ten immediately says. "What's wrong? What can I do?"

"Everything is a mess and it's terrible," Doyoung says, voice trembling. "Things were late and people weren't here and everything got off schedule so it's all happening now and everyone is crashing into each other and nothing is ready and stuff needs to be set up somewhere else but we can't get to the somewhere else and it's not even being set up properly _here_ , and — I can't do it. I can't do it with one of me."

"So you need one of me as well?"

"Yes." Doyoung's eyes finally fill with tears. "Please. I'll pay you anything you want. I'll give you the whole commission. Just help me fix it. I can't let it be ruined."

"Take a few deep breaths," Ten says. "It's going to be okay. I don't want money, I want you to stop crying — don't lie to me, I know you are. So keep breathing, clear your head, send me your location and stop the tears. I'll be there in — um, however long it takes to get there."

"I'm sorry." Doyoung sniffles, looking up towards the ceiling to blink the tears out of his eyes. "I know you were going to go out tonight and have fun with your friends. And now I'm dragging you into work, and it's not even _your_ work. I'm sorry for ruining your night."

"Shh, stop that. Don't even _think_ that," Ten soothes him. "I can get drunk in slutty clothes whenever I want. You are so much more important than that. Okay?"

"Okay." Doyoung's eyes well up with tears again, which spill over onto his cheeks. He hastily reaches up to wipe them away in case anyone finally regains awareness that he exists and witnesses the disaster he currently is.

On the other end of the line, Ten makes a disapproving noise. "What did I say about tears?"

"Stop them," Doyoung says grudgingly.

"That's right. No more crying. Promise me. You know I can sense you crying and it hurts me, and you don't want that, right?"

Doyoung smiles ruefully. Ten has sworn for years he has a telepathic link to that particular emotional state of his. He's not _totally_ sure he believes it, but he's gotten perfectly timed calls and texts from Ten frequently enough that he's pretty much convinced. Somehow, Ten does always seem to be able to tell. "Okay. No more crying. I promise."

"Good. Remember, I will know. Now take a few more breaths and get back to work. I'll be here as soon as I can."

"Thank you." Doyoung's voice is still a bit shaky, but the ground under him is becoming more stable. "I love you. I'll save your life in return sometime."

"You already have. So many times," Ten replies. "But seriously. Send me your location. I can only read your mind _sometimes_ , and you're out of my range."

Doyoung obeys all the instructions he's given, ending with _get back to work_. Maybe, just maybe, he still has a shot at survival.

  


By the time Ten comes rushing in the door, things are coming together a little more. Most crucially, Doyoung has located the custodian and gotten the other room unlocked. Things are still all over the place, but at least they can now be all over the other place too. He's also straightened out one of the most disastrous pile-ups, and a solid half of the food is securely in place on the buffet tables, harmlessly resting over their previously precarious burners. Ten manages to duck and weave through the havoc towards him at an impressive speed, and without missing a beat, steps Doyoung out of the path of a passing rack of chairs and behind the protective barrier of a giant cauldron. "How are you feeling? A little better? I brought an extra clipboard because I know clipboards calm you down. Okay, what do you need me to do?"

"Make the ceremony room happen," Doyoung says, and waves his hands in an unsuccessful attempt to convey further explanation. Ten puts a clipboard in them. This stops the waving. "Then come back to help me finish making this room scary."

"Perfect. I am a Halloween wedding _pro_. We will get this done, and it will be great," Ten promises him. He looks over Doyoung's shoulder and calls out to someone heading in an extremely inconvenient direction with a giant mirror. "Maybe put that on the stage until things calm down enough to get it to the right place? Then it won't get broken and give us all seven years of bad luck. Great! Thank you!"

"What would I do without you?" Doyoung asks, looking at Ten in wonder.

"Luckily for you, you'll never have to find out." Ten smiles up at him, then pulls him into a hug. The hug contains a little more clipboard than Doyoung would like, but it has enough Ten, and that's what matters. For a moment he lets his sore eyes drift shut and leans on Ten. It's the first time all day he's felt truly steady on his feet. When Ten finally pulls away, he temporarily re-possesses Doyoung's clipboard and flips through the crumpled stack of papers now attached to it, removing some as he goes. "Minor detail, but I have no clue what the room is meant to look like and what I need to get into it, so … okay, checklist, diagram, written instructions, assorted relevant information … you are so over-prepared. Honestly, are you okay? But, perfect," Ten concludes brightly. His eyes light up with Event Enthusiasm as he returns the clipboard. "Okay! Let's do this."

Ten heads off to work his organising magic, and Doyoung makes his way out from behind the cauldron and back into the fray. A spark of energy flickers to life in his withered soul. Ten is here and saving his ass, and he's going to do his part to save it too. He has a clipboard. They are going to turn this around.

  


Everything feels surreal for a while as his instincts kick in, bypass his brain entirely and take over. He manages to fall into that space he usually does, where pulling everything off is an all-consuming single-minded pursuit and everything else fades out. He sprints around the reception hall directing, redirecting, strategising and explaining in a flurry of questions, instructions, split-second judgements and rearrangements. Gradually things happen slower and slower, with less occuring at any given time. He begins to run at lower speeds. After an indeterminate amount of time, Doyoung is snapped out of his fugue by a tap on the shoulder and jumps in shock at the sudden presence of stimuli from outside his Planning World.

"I love this!" Ten says. "It looks so great and so fixed."

"It's fixed?" Doyoung looks at Ten, then around the room. And yes, it is. All the furniture is in the exact locations dictated by his diagram. The lighting is in place, even the massive chandeliers that had to go a terrifyingly precarious attachment to the ceiling. The DJ is unpacking her gear on a now mirror-free stage. The entirety of the food and highly breakable tableware are in their spill-and-break-resistant spots, including the recently arrived cake. The tangle-prone vines and fragile withered black roses have not ensnared anyone or faded out of existence. And miraculously, there are no dead trees in the sangria fountain. He looks down at his checklist, and finally processes it when he finds most of the boxes checked off. "Oh. It is."

"Yeah. It is. And it's amazing." Ten looks around in delight, then takes his hand and drags him off in the direction of the storage closet, talking at double-speed. "Everything for the ceremony is ready. It was a disaster at first, but it's okay now! Oh my god, I can't get over how great this room looks. You did it. But not totally because we have a ton of finishing touches to put in place, which is going to be brutal but it'll be fine. So let's get that suffering started!"

Surprisingly, it is fine. The suffering is lessened by Ten's presence, and goes by in another frantic blur of activity until all they've got left are the centerpieces. Doyoung's previously assembled ones are passable; they assemble the rest at the tables, rushing through the first several at lightning speed before gaining the confidence to slow down.

"I'm actually really glad I got to see you," Ten says, briefly looking up from meticulously draping spiderwebs over the lantern they're working on. "It's been _weeks_ since we've even talked on the phone — um, besides today. How is your life?"

"A cruel joke," Doyoung replies. It's bittersweet when he attaches two of the plastic spiders to the webs. They were good listeners. He feels like they've bonded and is going to miss them. "My last wedding went well, which is why _this_ is happening to me. Tiffany asked me to plan her wedding and it reminded me of my usual irrelevance to people who used to like me. Nightmare Client returned from the abyss to haunt me. And Rubbish Bin Asshole is, surprise, being a rubbish bin asshole again."

"Really?" Ten frowns, checking the completed centerpiece and heading off to the next table with Doyoung and their large box of components trudging after him. "I was rooting for him. We were all rooting for him. How dare he?"

"I don't know. I thought we were making progress." Doyoung lets out an extended sigh as he puts the box down and rummages for another set of centerpiece parts. "I wasn't expecting anything from _him_ , but it seemed like maybe that fight settled something — you remember, the one with the cake — and things had changed. We went out drinking with Johnny and Taeyong a few weeks ago, and we were just talking like everything was normal. It really did feel different. But then some of the wedding party got together last week, and he was just _weird_. He scolded me for not taking care of myself, then made fun of me for _hypothetically_ flirting with a girl I didn't even know was a lesbian and told me nobody wants to date me because I'm pathetic. And called me, direct quote, "embarrassing in general". It was so rude and unnecessary. Like everything about him." Doyoung realises he's been gripping a lantern way too hard, and puts it down before he cracks the glass. "He said he was just teasing me. Like I'm meant to find him insulting me funny. I guess we don't understand each other after all."

"Wow. Just, wow." Ten looks shocked and offended. "What an asshole! Who even asked him?"

"Not me!" Doyoung declares, and picks up two spiders he's certain would agree with Ten. "I don't know why I even considered that things might change or he could become tolerable. What the fuck do you even do with a guy who pisses you off nonstop for months, gives you roses, provokes cake arguments, jokes about marrying you, drapes his drunk self on you, nags you about your health then goes in on you about why you suck and no one would want to date you?"

"Tell him to go to hell," Ten replies immediately. He gently removes the spiders from Doyoung's hands and attaches them. "And then forget about him, because you've got much more important things to think about than him. Like, literally anything. Including the fact that we are now officially done."

"What?" Doyoung blinks, looking around the room and then into the empty box. He was so thoroughly consumed by righteous indignation he somehow didn't notice. But sure enough, everything is complete. The room is picture perfect and tranquil. There are no signs of the chaos, confusion, calamity and devastation that took place here just a little while ago. It looks even better than he could've imagined. "Oh thank god. I'm so glad that's over and we're still alive."

"Oh yeah. The relief is so real. That was intense." Ten laughs, and then suddenly Doyoung and the box are being dragged off to the storage closet again. "Not to scare you, babe, but I've been keeping track of time — don't freak out about you forgetting to, please, I got this — and you've got ten minutes to turn yourself into a sexy vampire and then get your ass over to the ceremony room to start directing stuff."

Doyoung limits his freaking out to a few _oh my god_ s, grabs the pile of clothes Ten is pointing to and changes frantically. After he tangles himself up in multiple items and trips twice, Ten decides he shouldn't be trusted with cosmetics or sharp things and averts disaster by doing Doyoung's makeup with impressive speed and snapping his fangs onto his teeth. "You look good," Ten promises, but briefly holds his phone up with the front camera open so Doyoung can verify this himself. Then he smiles, looking at Doyoung sentimentally. "I'm really glad you called me. You don't ask for help enough. But you did, and I'm proud of you." He combs Doyoung's mussed hair into place with his fingers, straightens up his clothing and fixes the bow tying the front of his cape. "After all that work, I wish I could stay for the wedding."

"Are you going to a party?"

"No. I'm too tired now." Ten smiles wryly. "I can't stay because I'm not invited."

"Well …" Doyoung considers. "This _is_ a pretty big and complicated wedding. I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I brought an assistant."

Ten's face lights up, but then he hesitates. "I didn't bring my costume."

"What were you?"

"I was a mouse, duh."

Doyoung scans their surroundings, examining the boxes of extra decorations, props and assorted Halloween-related items. They end up wrapping Ten in a bunch of spiderwebs, splattering fake blood all over him, draping a plastic snake around his neck and calling him "a web of lies". As they dash out of the storage closet with thirty seconds to spare, Doyoung points out, "This is new. _I'm_ bringing _you_ to _my_ Halloween plans."

"I like this plan so much more than my original one," Ten says. "Now let's go stress ourselves out at your awesome party."

  


So they do.

The wedding goes surprisingly well — or not so surprisingly since there are two of them and one is Ten, a ray of organised and friendly sunshine. The ceremony is beautiful. The costumed guests comprise the most interesting collection of attendees Doyoung has ever seen. The arch the couple gets married under is made of wrought iron draped with eerie vines and cobwebs. The officiant is dressed as a mortician, and begins with the words "we are gathered here today to mourn the death of Mark and Jackson's unshackled lives". Doyoung is surprised how okay their parents are with all this, but it turns out Mark has the coolest dad ever; he livetweets the wedding and roasts Mark with gusto. It's great. Werewolf Jackson and Skeleton Mark exit the room as a successfully wedded couple, after vows with probably too many Olympics metaphors and Jackson tangling Mark up in a spiderweb during their kiss.

The reception hall looks magical when filled with a wide variety of creatures and characters, like it's transported them to a different unearthly dimension. The chandeliers bathe everything in dim eerie light, the dead trees cast creepy shadows on everything within their radius and the plastic spiders freak just enough people out. Ten is somehow everywhere, keeping everything running smoothly and blending in so perfectly that no guests would even notice his involvement. Everyone seems to be having a great time.

Then things start to go downhill for Doyoung.

It takes him a while, but he becomes aware he's not doing very much. It's all kind of overwhelming him right now, and the event adrenaline high is wearing off much sooner than usual and leaving him exhausted. It's always the thing that sustains him through the tiring chaos of weddings, but it's failing him. The effects of going so long without properly taking care of himself are threatening to overcome him at the worst possible moment. It's all loud and hectic and he's having trouble keeping up. He feels small and adrift and useless.

It's embarrassing. And then he hears, _you're embarrassing in general_. He's standing alone in the corner at a wedding failing at his job, and for some reason, Yuta's voice is the one that tears into him. _You're embarrassing. No wonder you're single_. Why does Yuta keep popping up to plague him? Because he does, even when he's not there. He's plagued Doyoung constantly since the day they met, and he's sick of it. He doesn't know why Yuta gets to him so much, but he _does_ , and he hates it.

Finally, another voice cuts through the fog. "It's time for the couple's first dance!" the DJ announces. "And they've requested not to be stuck dancing alone, so don't be boring, grab a partner and join them." Doyoung watches everyone pull their significant others and friends out onto the dance floor, and, god. Why did he have to become a wedding planner? Everyone is in love and embedded in social circles and everything is mocking him.

"Hi! Wake up." Ten has silently appeared beside him and is tapping him on the shoulder. He takes one of Doyoung's hands and puts a goblet of sangria in it. "I thought you could use this. You were looking a little … drained."

Doyoung groans as Ten laughs at his own terrible pun, but raises the goblet in a toast to him nonetheless. Chugging alcohol with fangs turns out to be inconvenient, but it doesn't stop him from downing half the sangria in a single go. "I am," he admits. "I'm just. So tired."

"I know," Ten says sympathetically. "But you've been doing really well. I promise you have. So finish your drink, then stop moping around and dance with me."

"Okay," Doyoung agrees, with great reluctance. "But not … vigorously."

"We can break the "don't be boring" rule," Ten acquiesces. "We will dance, get more sangria and then help with the cake. There'd better be some left over, because I've never walked away from a raspberry chocolate fudge cake without eating it and that is not going to change tonight."

Doyoung laughs, finishes the sangria and lets Ten yet again grab him by the hand and drag him off somewhere, but this time to have a manageable amount of fun.

  


So the emotional roller coaster of an event finishes well. Doyoung manages to snap back into it enough to help, assisted by Ten's infectious spirit (and especially by sangria). The party is in such full swing that it seems like it could go on indefinitely if Mark and Jackson didn't have a flight to Hong Kong to catch. They make their way through the crowd saying their goodbyes until they reach Doyoung and Ten hovering near the cake (there were, indeed, leftovers).

"Fuckin' awesome wedding," Jackson says. This time, Doyoung is prepared for the convoluted handshake-hug-thing. Ten is not. "Best wedding I've ever had."

"Dude, this is the _only_ wedding you've had," Mark says.

"Yeah, so it's definitely the best one," Jackson reasons.

"I can't believe I married _you_." Mark stares at him for a moment, then shakes his head. "I could have just, like, walked away at the Summer Olympics."

"But you didn't, and I love you," Jackson says. "Anyway, seriously, amazing wedding. Fun as hell. You guys are great. And you make the best team ever. Okay, so, awesome, we're gonna go get on a plane. I think we're running late but I don't know cause my phone died. Getting through airport security like this is probably gonna be a problem. Peace out." With that, Jackson and Mark make their escape.

"Aww, he said we make a good team." Ten smiles affectionately, clinging to Doyoung. "And, good news, they're going to be together forever. My divorce senses are not tingling." The divorce senses are another psychic power Ten claims he has, and he's been right with such scary accuracy that Doyoung no longer lets him predict the fate of his couples until the wedding is over.

"I'm glad to hear that," Doyoung says. "I think so too."

  


Clean-up happens in a blur of directing, supervising, disassembling and haphazardly packing. This includes making sure the remaining contents of the sangria fountain don't go to waste. Doyoung ensures it's put to good use; Ten made it clear that for the first time in his career he doesn't have to be the responsible one, and he's just weary and tipsy enough to actually take him up on that offer. It's a wonderful feeling. Then finally, _finally_ they leave. It's been a hell of a night, and they miraculously made it out alive. Taking the first step outside feels like crossing a portal into a universe of total freedom.

So they're standing there in the chilly night air, illuminated almost entirely by the moon. Doyoung is riding out the resurgence of his adrenaline rush, teetering on the edge of crashing and a little swirled up by the alcohol, but Ten is warm and steady against his side and he feels like stability. Ten turns to him to say something, probably something philosophical and strange like _the stars are wonderful and we totally take for granted having giant lamps a bazillion light years away_ , but before he can think about it, Doyoung kisses him.

It's a good kiss. It's an amazing kiss. Ten's lips are soft and gentle, but he's got a natural charisma and passion that could make anyone's knees weak. It feels so good to kiss someone, _anyone_ , again. Doyoung's not had something like this in forever, and he's missed it so much. And because Ten's gone along with it, it takes Doyoung a moment to realise what he's done. But then it hits him fast and vivid in a freezing rush, and he immediately pulls away.

"Oh my god," Doyoung says in horror. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to — I just — I am _so sorry_."

"It's okay! It's okay," Ten reassures him.

"No, I _kissed_ you —"

He did. He _kissed_ Ten. In his drunk, unstable state, everything feels catastrophic. Now he might have freaked Ten out and ruined their friendship, and if he did, he'd hate himself forever. Ten did him a favour and Doyoung repaid him by using him as an outlet for his tangled web of issues. Admittedly, he's made Ten deal with his issues for years, but kissing him is a whole different level. He can't stand the thought of making Ten uncomfortable, and he can't stand losing this friendship. He doesn't know what he'd do without Ten. He hopes being an emotional disaster area isn't going to force him to find out.

"Yeah, you did, but really, it's okay." Ten puts a hand on his shoulder. "I promise I'm not upset with you. You're not a bad kisser. And, y'know, you're pretty attractive. If I wanted an impulsive platonic misery kiss, you'd be at the top of my list too."

Doyoung winces. "You could sense the misery?"

"Yeah. It was pretty obvious." Ten smiles wryly. "Nobody unexpectedly kisses their best friend with an aura of despondency right after a wedding unless it's a platonic misery kiss."

"Oh _god_." Doyoung hides his face in his hands, overwhelmed with embarrassment and shame. He can't believe he did that. It doesn't help that his instability is apparently very transparent. "This is so bad."

"Shh. I told you it's fine. Let's talk, okay?" There's a bench nearby, and Ten leads Doyoung to it and sits him down. Doyoung is still kind of off-balance, but Ten kindly doesn't point it out. Doyoung has removed his hands from his face, but he can't look up from them. Ten attempts to lighten the mood. "I'm glad you already took off your fangs."

Doyoung laughs shakily. "Yeah, I guess it could have been worse. I could have punctured you."

"See? There's one disaster averted," Ten says, and takes one of his hands. "Okay, so, talk to me. What's going on?"

"It's stupid." Doyoung shakes his head, still unable to look up at him. "A lot of stuff has been messing me up lately. So I'm inadequate, and that's fun, but I guess I'm also … lonely."

"Lonely?" Ten asks. "In what way?"

"In all of them." Doyoung finds himself suddenly fighting the urge to sniffle. "I've been single for four and a half years, and that doesn't seem like it's going to change. And everyone keeps reminding me of it. Obviously being a wedding planner doesn't help, but lately people keep asking me about it and pestering me and won't let me just stop thinking about it. So I have to tell them I'm alone and pitiful and put up with pity or condescension or rudeness. Not only that, but the only time I hear from my old friends is when a client tells me who referred them to me. Or if I can be useful to them again. It doesn't feel great that they only want me in their lives when they need a service I provide. I only cross their minds because of the economic phenomenon of specialisation of labour. And that hurts." He finally can't resist the urge to sniffle. And then he can't stop. "Maybe it was my own fault. I helped marry them all of them off. Of course they don't need me anymore. They have a person of their own."

"You're okay. You're okay," Ten soothes him, until he finally stops sniffling. After a while, he asks, "Is this about Yuta?"

"Some of it," Doyoung admits. "Some is just the usual. But he brings stuff up. By saying things, and by just being the way he is. I don't know. He's like … if someone crafted the most unbearable arch-nemesis for me, slapped a stupid beautiful face on them and tossed them in my way. There's something that's just _him_ that bothers me on a deeper level. So he combines with the stuff already in the background and suddenly I'm thinking even _more_ about how I'm incompetent or embarrassing or sad and alone. He always twists the knife at the wrong time, and I'm sick of it. Just fucking sick of it."

"He sucks. Everyone who makes you feel bad sucks," Ten reassures him, gently rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb. "And you know all this. You're just letting people — and _him_ — throw you off. You know it's okay not to date someone, and it's okay if people drift out of your life. If you want to be with someone, you can find them eventually. Same with friends. It's okay for things to be like this now, and they don't have to be like this forever. It takes time for the right people to cross your path, but they always do."

His cynicism rears its ugly head for a moment. It's easy for Ten to say this. He never has a problem getting anyone to date him — in fact, his problem is getting them to _not_ demand a serious commitment, because he genuinely likes being single and enjoying his endless line of suitors. He's been surrounded by friends for as long as Doyoung has known him, and there's never been a point in his life where he wasn't a popular social butterfly. He's successful in his job and confident in his abilities, even being flown around the world by clients paying him much more than Doyoung's are. And he's got his shit completely together. Doyoung doesn't want to be jealous of Ten, only happy for him, but sometimes it's difficult to fight off impending envy. So it's tempting to cry out a petulant _easy for you to say_. But he reminds himself this is Ten, who is extremely empathetic and good at putting himself in other people's shoes — freakishly good at putting himself in Doyoung's, even — and cuts that train of thought short, then continues.

"It's to the point that I now think of two of my clients as the closest thing to friends I have besides you," Doyoung says, and god, it sounds so pitiful. "That's weird, right? To them, I'm probably just some person they hired to find them flowers or whatever. And unless you were close to a client already, you're not meant to be their _friend_ , right?"

Ten considers it for a moment. "I don't think it's weird. I've developed some great relationships with clients. If they want to be friends, then why not? The key is that until the wedding's over, you have to think of them as clients first and friends second. If you don't maintain that professional standpoint, things could get messy. But if you can keep it from affecting your ability to do your job properly ... then I think it's actually kind of nice."

"My professionalism is kind of a facade these days," Doyoung admits. "Actually, no. It's just a total sham."

"No, it's not. It just seems like that to you." Ten squeezes his hand. "You've had some rough moments lately, and yes, sometimes your control has slipped a little, but that doesn't mean everything is a mess. You always do this, you know? You do all this dramatic worst-case scenario thinking, and then you freak yourself out or beat yourself up. This needs to stop. Of course you're going to feel inadequate when you're way too hard on yourself."

Doyoung's vision blurs even further as his eyes fill with tears. Ten has once again done what he does best — see right through him, clock him with total accuracy and then force him to confront everything he's struggling to remain in denial of. It's never easy to hear, but it's always what he needs. Ten is right. This needs to stop.

"So really, Doyoung, it's okay. I understand what you're going through, and I'm here for you. I always am." Ten laces their fingers together. "You can't keep letting all this ruin your self-esteem. Focus on the present. Don't focus on who you don't see in the future, or who you've lost from the past. Focus on the people who like you _now_ — and, yes, they do exist. I mean, obviously _I_ exist, and you've been my best friend on this entire earth for four years. Since the day I met you. You still are."

Doyoung gives him a sheepish smile. "I didn't mess anything up by being dumb and drunk and kissing you? You're not freaked out or anything?"

"I told you I didn't mind. If impulsively kissing me is what it took to fix _that_ whole mess — no offence — then that's fine with me. Of course it's not going to harm our friendship. It would take a lot more than that to weird me out." Ten laughs, then adds, "Besides, this is so far from the worst Doyoung meltdown I've seen."

Doyoung cringes. That's an understatement. Ten has seen him through some very, _very_ dark times. He tries to cringe hard enough to clear away the montage of extremely embarrassing moments Ten has borne witness to before he can calculate how much of his existence he regrets.

"Can you try something for me?" Ten asks. "I know it's easier said than done, so feel free to roll your eyes, but … the next time you start thinking like that about being alone or single or left behind, can you just think _so what_? Or the next time someone bothers you about it or is rude or makes you feel bad, just think _who cares_? Even if you don't feel like it, try thinking the words. Because you know them, honestly. So maybe if you repeat them, they'll sink in. Just try."

"Okay," Doyoung agrees reluctantly. He does roll his eyes, because he's a cynic and Ten said he could. But there's no harm in it. And it goes well with his other new Ten-provided mantra: _this needs to stop_. "I'll try."

Ten smiles. Then he says in a more businesslike tone, "So I already figured you wouldn't be driving as soon as you went into clean-up mode on the sangria fountain, but, yeah. This is a _definite_ no on that." He indicates Doyoung's mess of a self, then reaches into Doyoung's pocket and fishes around until he emerges with his keys. "I'll take you home."

"I wish we could teleport instead," Doyoung groans, flopping his head onto Ten's shoulder. "I want to be home right now immediately."

"Take it up with the laws of the universe, babe." Ten helps him to his feet, keeping a steadying arm around him as Doyoung wobbles off in the direction of where he vaguely remembers his car being. "I'd make you promise to sleep tonight, but I don't think that's gonna be a problem. If I knew this was all it took to put you out of commission for a night, I would've ruined one of your weddings and then gotten you drunk a long time ago."

Maybe this is what he's been needing this whole time. Some reassurance, a reality check and a brief trip to rock bottom to claw his way back up from just to see that he _can_. The critical voices in his head are quiet — especially the very familiar ones. And, _so what? Who cares? This needs to stop_ , and it's going to. Ten is right. Every solution doesn't need to be immediate. Things take time, and he can wait. This could be the most productive wedding failure he's ever had. Whether he pushes through everything in the long-term or not remains to be seen, but at least right now it's okay. He's focusing on the present. Whatever comes next ... he'll figure it out later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meme reference count: 5  
> merging of fic universes: ongoing
> 
>  
> 
> i feel like this needs a lot more tags to reflect all the story elements, but for the life of me i don't know what.
> 
> (side note: if you would enjoy writing a remix of one of your fics, sign-ups for [k-fic automix](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/automix2018) are open until april 27th. technically. you can sneak in late.)
> 
> thank you again for your enduring patience and for continuing to read!


	6. T-7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hoped to have this done a month ago, but then i turned my life completely upside down. i've been working my ass off and having the time of my life and it's pretty all-consuming. i don't know where this will lead, so it may be a while until the next update (again). thank you for sticking with this snail-speed-burn monster.

**T-7**

On a chilly Thursday night in the first week of November, Doyoung finds himself helping Taeyong make fish en papillote. Or, more accurately, being taught by Taeyong how to make fish en papillote. He's not much of a cook — he hasn't got the time or fucks to give to acquire any sort of proficiency — but he's muddling through. Mostly, he's just trying to be a useful assistant and not look too incompetent in front of his Adult Goals icon. 

T-7 is usually a fairly quiet month if he's stuck to his usual schedule and no horrible plot-twist developments have arisen. This wedding is one of the rare ones where that's been the case. As such, he only needs to meet with Johnny and Taeyong once, just to touch base. Admittedly, he probably could have done that meeting over the phone, but he likes to do things face to face — and, of course, he couldn't refuse Taeyong's invitation to provide him dinner during it. The closest he's had to an actual meal in a week is eating himself sick on leftover Halloween candy twice, because he's too lazy to learn from his mistakes. 

"Julienne these," Taeyong says, sliding him a large pile of carrots. They're apparently prepping "the aromatics", which is a term Doyoung thinks he may have heard on an occasion Ten made him watch the Food Network. However, because he tends to tune out the more technical terms on the Food Network and focus on the descriptions of things as "satisfyingly crunchy" and "deliciously buttery and flaky", he does not know the other. After a moment of Doyoung blinking blankly at him, Taeyong explains. "Julienning is a way to cut something. It's essentially just thin slices. Here, I'll show you." He takes Doyoung's knife and the carrots and demonstrates the method far too quickly and skilfully to be replicated, but luckily he finishes the whole bunch and Doyoung is off the hook. 

Doyoung looks at Taeyong in mild awe as he transfers the carrots to a bowl without dropping a single one. His and Johnny's generosity is astounding. He's had clients who have fed him, but not consistently, and they've never made him home-cooked meals. But Johnny and Taeyong are different. They don't just meet with him, they hang out with him. They're definitely getting him more involved in their lives than he's used to, even as more of a full-service wedding planner than a lot of others, but he doesn't mind. And "more full-service" is certainly not an understatement; he knows he takes on a lot more than most other planners and goes way above and beyond, and could probably cut down on his stress levels and overwhelming schedule by taking a more hands-off approach, but his customer service is his value proposition and he's not about to jeopardise his constant glowing reviews and referrals for the sake of something trivial like maintaining his sanity. Even so, he might be resistant to being pulled into most of his clients' orbits so thoroughly, but he really enjoys it with Johnny and Taeyong. It's natural, it's nice, and it works. 

"Okay, now brunoise this," Taeyong says, handing him a zucchini. "To do that, you start by julienning it and then kind of dice it after that." 

Taeyong turns away to begin arranging fish filets on parchment paper, and Doyoung ends up dicing the zucchini messily in too many different sizes after trying and failing to remember how julienning works. Johnny, meanwhile, is across the kitchen mixing some cocktail involving gin. That responsibility seems to have finally been taken out of Taeyong's highly ABV-inconsistent hands. It's not too long before the little packets have been assembled, folded and slid into the oven, and Doyoung can't help but feel a little glow of empowerment and pride at having contributed one (1) thing to the process. 

"What else should we be working on right now?" Taeyong asks, once they've seated themselves at the Kitchen Island Headquarters with their cocktails (French 75s, apparently) to wait for the fish. "I don't know if there's some kind of checklist, or timeline, or …" 

"There's not usually too much to do this month," Doyoung says. "You've got your guest list, musicians, catering and cake, wedding party attire … you mentioned having a photographer chosen, so that covers it for now. You could start thinking about some smaller, less event-related things, like a gift registry." 

"We're just having people send donations to charities," Johnny replies. "I mean, we've been living together for … almost six years, I think?" He pauses to do the math, then turns to Taeyong. "When did we acquire Yuta? We moved in together a few months before whenever that was. And, man, acquiring Yuta was a plot twist. So it would be around five and a half years, right?" Taeyong nods, and they share a brief nostalgic smile. "Anyway, we've accumulated all the dishes, appliances and towels we need." 

"That's really sweet." Doyoung's heart melts a little. Not only is that an extremely kind option, but he's impressed at how long their relationship has lasted and how strong it still is. "When did you get together?" 

"We were university sweethearts," Johnny says, batting his eyelashes at Taeyong. Taeyong laughs and smacks him on the arm. "He was in my Persuasive Communication Techniques class in our last semester of senior year. He was way out of my league, sat all the way across the room and immediately got snatched up for the group project, so I couldn't figure out how to chat him up without coming off really weird. But it turned out we were both friends with Jaehyun, so I _finally_ got an excuse to talk to him. Damn right I put those Persuasive Communication Techniques into practical application. And somehow, I got him to fall for me." Johnny grins, and Taeyong leans against him for a hug. "So, not to brag, but apparently I'm capable of miracles."

"Everyone said we moved in together way too fast, but I knew we'd be living together forever so it didn't make sense to delay the start of it." Taeyong gives Johnny a soft smile, and Johnny kisses him on the top of the head. "And it worked out for us." 

Doyoung's heart melts all over again. He feels weirdly teary-eyed, but there's probably just some particles from the onion Taeyong chopped for The Aromatics lingering in the air. "You two really give me hope," he confesses. "I see so many couples, and I'll be honest, not all of them stay together. And sometimes I really wonder what things might end up being like for me, but …" 

Luckily, before Doyoung can veer down the oversharing road and pour the rest of his heart out, the oven timer dings and he's interrupted by the fish. Incidentally, this is not the first time in his life he's been interrupted by fish in the middle of an extremely emotional moment. He'd estimate it's somewhere around the fifth. 

He's never eaten fish out of a bag before, and he was incredibly sceptical that putting any sort of paper in the oven wouldn't lead to their likely very expensive flat burning down, but it all seems to have worked out. Thankfully, the conversation doesn't direct itself back to whatever deep direction he was about to take it. They alternate between discussing the next few upcoming months and what Johnny and Taeyong are dealing with at work. Doyoung does not contribute much of what _he's_ dealing with. He doesn't want to kill the mood. Politely, they don't press.

Once they're done, Doyoung rummages through his bag to figure out where the hell his phone has gone. Somehow, he's completely forgot to check it. However, he first encounters a bridal magazine; Ten gave it to him to give to Yuju, who is now in the market for ideas of what her new wedding dress should look like. "Have you chosen what you're wearing?" 

"Not yet," Taeyong admits. "It's hard to decide whether to go completely classic or a little more contemporary, but if we choose the second then it's difficult to strike a balance between keeping up with modern fashion and not being too trendy. I mean, we don't want our wedding pictures to look ridiculous in ten or twenty years. So we're looking at a lot of styles and options." 

"Fashion is difficult. Well, there are a lot of good looks in this. Maybe they'll give you some inspiration," Doyoung says without thinking, and slides the magazine over to them. They look at it in confusion, and then he processes. "Oh. Right. Um. I don't suppose either of you will be wearing dresses." 

"If you find a really nice one, I wouldn't rule it out," Johnny says. 

Doyoung senses Yuta before he sees him. This is probably through the same mechanism that lets antelope sense lions sneaking up on them from a distance. The classic evolutionary ability of creatures to gain awareness of the presence of other creatures they would like to flee from. Doyoung, however, is more socially advanced than an antelope. He is also a civilised being. Therefore, he resists the urge to run away or shoot a nasty look in Yuta's direction, and keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the bridal magazine across the table. 

"Oh!" Taeyong exclaims, jumping in surprise at the sound of Yuta dropping his bag on the coffee table. He clutches his chest, wide-eyed, and then laughs in relief. "You scared me. I didn't hear you come in."

"Yeah, _someone_ didn't shut the door all the way behind them," Yuta replies, no doubt with a critical look at Doyoung. "Allowing anyone to wander in with no warning. Including a murderer. You're lucky it's just me."

"I might prefer the murderer," Doyoung mutters under his breath. 

Yuta makes his way over to the kitchen and retrieves the extra fish bag they made him, and then, to Doyoung's eternal agony, places himself at the table with them. He ends up sitting next to Doyoung, because of course he does. He smells heavenly. He also sets all Doyoung's nerves on edge just by existing nearby. 

"How was your day?" Taeyong asks, and then chastises, "Don't be rude. Greet Doyoung and thank him for helping to make dinner." 

"Hi, Doyoung. I hope you didn't poison this," Yuta says, without turning his attention away from tearing open the parchment paper bag. "It was fine. I actually got two offers _during_ the open house, but they were both for list price and neither was cash, so I'm going to try to convince the homeowners to hold out for at least another week. I think we can get a lot more than that." Doyoung, being near the end of a very long day and having somewhat zoned out, yawns. Yuta finally glances up at him, but to give him a mildly annoyed look. Doyoung puts together that rather than being clearly interpreted as involuntarily expressing his exhaustion, he has been assumed to be fake-yawning at whatever Yuta's job entails. "Oh, sorry my life is unbearably dull to you. We can talk about flowers or something if you'd prefer." 

"I wasn't —" Doyoung begins to say, but then remembers he doesn't want to engage in any more conversation with Yuta than necessary. He shakes his head and returns his eyes to the smiling brides on the cover of the magazine. "Never mind." 

"That's good," Taeyong says placidly, choosing to completely gloss over whatever that interaction was. "I don't doubt you could get more. I saw the pictures you sent; you got it fixed up and staged so well." 

"I'm glad to know we'll definitely get at least asking," Yuta replies, poking at the fish with his fork. "I did push the envelope a little by listing it that far above the comparables … but come on. I had to. You saw how I got them to refinish those cabinets and floors. And the glorious light fixtures I chose. None of the comps had my impeccable high-class touch." 

Doyoung, again having mostly zoned out, instinctively rolls his eyes. And, fuck. Not again. He really can't resist the urge to sass Yuta today.

"Of course, my well-designed renovations are nothing compared to a bouquet arrangement," Yuta says in an incredibly sardonic tone. "You're right, Doyoung. How could I be so prideful in my abilities." 

"I wasn't —" Doyoung says again, but then again deems it not worth it. He drains the last few drops of the French 75 he's been nursing. The brides continue to blindingly smile.

He's starting to think it's time to go. Yuta's presence is making him feel like he's overstaying his welcome and intruding upon some family moment he's not meant to be part of. Yuta's presence is also, as always, grating. And it's really not a good look to keep losing control of his ability to deal with Yuta. 

But Yuta deserves it. After his behaviour last time, Yuta deserves every ounce of dismissiveness he gets. Really, Doyoung can't be expected to be kind to him after the rudeness he was subjected to and the crisis it sent him into. He doesn't regret treating Yuta like this, only that it might be making him look bad in front of Taeyong and Johnny.

"I should be going," Doyoung says, picking up the magazine and putting it back in his bag. "I've got an early morning tomorrow."

"Yes, definitely get some rest," Taeyong agrees. "But it was really nice having you here. You should come over again soon. But I know you're busy, so if you can't make it here before then, we'll see you at the Wedding Party Party." 

To this day, Doyoung is still surprised they actually want him here and aren't just being polite. This goes double after whatever friction he just ignited between him and Yuta, but miraculously, that doesn't seem to have bothered them at all. He smiles. "Thank you for the invitation and for dinner. I'll definitely see if I can work something else into my schedule." 

"Awesome," Johnny says. "We'll keep in touch. And, yeah, definitely reach out if there's anything else we should be thinking about wedding-wise." 

Taeyong gets up to give him a hug, and then he and Johnny gather up the dishes and bring them to the kitchen. Doyoung picks up his bag and heads to the door without a backwards glance or any kind of farewell to his remaining unwelcome dining companion. However, when he's about halfway down the short hallway leading to the door, he suddenly finds himself being caught by the wrist. He turns to find, _of course_ , Yuta. Fucking Yuta. He can never get away from him without being forced into some kind of interaction that's guaranteed to push him over the edge. 

"Okay, what the hell was all that?" Yuta asks. "What crawled up your ass and died?" 

"My patience," Doyoung says, and narrows his eyes. "Sorry if I didn't feel like dealing with your unnecessary mean comments again. I had enough of that last time." 

Yuta gazes off into the distance, thinking. After a moment, his eyes light up with recognition as he recalls the occasion Doyoung's talking about. It makes Doyoung extremely bitter that he has to try. "Wait, _three weeks_ ago? You're still pissed off about _that?_ "

"Yes!" Doyoung exclaims, exasperated. "It was really fucking rude."

Yuta looks at him hard. "You're not good at getting over things, are you?"

"No." Doyoung frowns. "I have a long memory, I don't suffer arrogant assholes and my legitimate grudges require an apology to fix. Any more questions?"

"No, that answers it," Yuta says, a little wryly. Then, "I guess I'm not too different on the holding grudges thing."

Doyoung snorts. "Yeah, you don't say." They're quiet for a moment, and then he says, "Okay, maybe I do assume the worst of you. But you can't blame me, right?" 

"I can a _little_ ," Yuta says. "But, okay. I see your point. I guess it's hard to give me the benefit of the doubt if you're not convinced I deserve it. But can you try just a bit more?"

"I'll start trying if you promise to make a genuine effort to deserve it. And that means thinking before you speak, asking yourself if some comments are actually necessary and taking into account whether something is likely to, you know, make me pissed off for three weeks," Doyoung says. "And also maybe not calling me "aggressively defensive". I'd prefer a synonym like "willing to protest when strongly annoyed"."

Yuta mulls it over. "Okay. I'll choose my words a little more carefully and refer to you instead as "quick to mouth off at negative stimuli"." 

Doyoung nods. "Thank you."

"And … I'm sorry." There's the same sincere, animosity-free look on Yuta's face that was there the first time Doyoung got an apology from Yuta, back in August when they yelled at each other in a hedge maze (well, okay, _he_ yelled) and settled the score on the months of aggravation Yuta had put him through. It's guileless and open, and Doyoung is surprised to see it. He never thought he'd see it again, and had almost come to believe the last time was a figment of his imagination. "I wasn't trying to hurt you or make you upset, but I'm sorry I ended up doing it anyway." 

"Thank you," Doyoung says again. 

"So is your grudge gone?" Yuta asks, with a small smirk. Of course his expression would return to that. He really can't let Doyoung go more than a few seconds without wanting to smack _something_ off his dumb, breathtaking face. 

" _That_ grudge is gone. But don't think another one won't take its place in a second," Doyoung warns.

"Noted," Yuta agrees. "Are we good?"

"We are in a state of equilibrium." 

"Okay. That's enough for me." Yuta gives him that stunning, blinding smile. For some reason, that smile has the power to change his feelings so quickly. He's not sure if Yuta's got some kind of strange magic capabilities, but it seems like a possibility. Looking at that endearing glowing smile, Doyoung finds himself thinking that maybe they _are_ good after all. Completely against his will, one of the corners of his mouth quirks up into something like a responding smile. Yuta reaches out and briefly squeezes his hand, and he experiences a sensation that feels a lot like disconnecting from his body. It takes a minute to register why he feels slightly dazed, and his fingers linger for a second as Yuta's pull away. "Okay, now that we've got that sorted, I'm going to finish my food and leave before Taeyong can interrogate me about my sleep schedule and instill me with a lifetime of guilt through his reaction to the answers. I'll see you at the party."

Doyoung manages to snap back into it just as Yuta's turning away. "Wait," he says, and Yuta looks over his shoulder. He's not sure what makes him ask, but he continues, "Last time, you said the reason nobody will date me couldn't be my looks. What did you mean by that?"

"I said that?" Yuta blinks, and then laughs. "Well, then I meant exactly what I said. Seriously, Doyoung. You're smart, kind of. I know you're not actually having that much trouble with a simple sentence." 

He strides off and leaves Doyoung staring after him. He cycles through confusion, frustration, and then a weird mix of annoyance and bafflement and intrigue. The only thing that crosses his mind is _damn Yuta. Damn him_. 

The night is even colder than it was when Doyoung arrived. He pulls his jacket a little tighter around himself, tugs his scarf up over the bottom half of his face and shivers. As he stumbles his way down the street, fighting the wind, he catches sight of his reflection on the glass door of a building. He's all cold-reddened cheeks, dark circles, fading hair dye and scrawny limbs. It's been forever since he's genuinely looked at himself, since it shatters his illusion that maybe he appears to the outside world to be holding it together better than he feels like he is. He never likes what he sees. But despite the frigid air sinking deep into his bones, he finds himself pausing for a moment to see past all the surface damage and study his face.

 

 

Doyoung meets with Tiffany at an upscale cafe, the kind of place with a menu that contains the words "petits fours assortment". When he sees her, he's overwhelmed with a flood of emotions and memories. She looks up from her teacup at the sound of his approaching footsteps, and her face instantly takes on her trademark angelic eye-smile as she gracefully gets to her feet. Just like that, all his bitterness and hurt about his months of perceived abandonment are forgotten. Instead, their reunion feels like a homecoming.

Tiffany is a lot shorter than him, even in her stiletto-heel Louboutin boots, so he bends down and hugs her carefully to avoid any kind of tall-person-inflicted muscle strains. "Oh my god, did you grow even more?" Tiffany asks from inside the hug. "I swear you weren't this tall the last time I saw you!"

"Maybe a little," Doyoung admits, and lets go of her.

Tiffany fixes her impeccably curled hair and beams up at him for a few more moments before taking him by the wrist and pulling him over to her table to sit down. She's always stylish, and as usual, she's dressed for her place in the fashion world. Her outfit reads like it's been put together from the In This Issue section of Vogue, and she looks like she's just stepped off one of its pages. Their table has three chairs: one for her, one for Doyoung and one for her Saint Laurent handbag. Doyoung did his best to look put-together today, but sitting across from Tiffany makes him feel dishevelled and low-effort.

"Let's just catch up first," Tiffany suggests. "We have _so_ much to update each other on!"

Maybe _she_ does. He's not been up to anything fascinating. Thankfully, a waiter appears before she can ask him any questions, and by the time they've finished placing their orders he's prepared to immediately take charge of the direction of the conversation.

"Tell me about the proposal," Doyoung says as soon as the waiter walks away. "Who proposed? Where? What was it like?"

This series of questions gets Tiffany talking until the waiter returns with their tea and petits fours assortment (he couldn't resist). It turns out Tiffany proposed; she tricked Taeyeon into thinking she was planning a birthday party for a supermodel friend of theirs, invited Taeyeon as her date and then surprised her with an incredibly elaborate proposal party. Doyoung requests all the details of the event. This fills up quite a bit of time.

"And yeah, so, it was really great!" Tiffany concludes. "Anyway, what have you been up to?"

"I was actually about to ask you that," Doyoung quickly deflects.

"Oh, sorry!" Tiffany exclaims. "I didn't mean to cut you off! Okay, so, like, the past few months have been _really_ crazy. I mean obviously there were all the Fashion Weeks in September and then part of October — thanks, Paris — but oh my god, that was not even _close_ to it." She launches into a series of stories from her exciting globe-trotting adventures, high-profile events and seemingly endless stream of parties. It makes him feel incredibly inadequate at first, but it provides a nice vicarious thrill and it's fun to hear her talk. He gets to quietly sip his tea and eat their pastries and nod and react at the appropriate moments, and it feels like the old days. Tiffany is a captivating speaker and an incredibly bubbly person, and she manages to totally suck him into her exhilarating world of glitz and glamour and couture. He remains transported, unquestioningly along for the journey until she reaches, "And also, I just got done with this party for a bunch of stylists from Asian fashion magazines! You know, like, Elle Korea, ViVi, Rayli, Harper's Bazaar Korea, Sweet, Cosmopolitan China, Vogue Korea, all of those. Totally crazy!"

"Vogue Korea?" Doyoung perks up. He doesn't know why, but on a whim, he asks, "Do you know Kwon Jiyong?"

"Oh, Jiyong! Yes!" Tiffany claps her hands together. "We've been at a lot of the same stuff and crossed paths a few times, kind of just like "hi, bye", but I finally met him, like, officially there. We got to talk for a while too."

Tentatively, Doyoung continues. "What's he like?"

"Well …" Tiffany thinks, taking a sip of her tea. "I guess the best word is, um … intense? But not in a bad way. He just has a lot of presence. He's kind of intimidating though! But if you get past that, he's actually really charming. And I don't know how to explain it, but he's kind of, like, an unofficial guest of honour at every event. Everyone either knows him or wants to meet him. People don't just go talk to him though. I don't know if it's because he's a big deal or because of how he is, I think a little bit of both, but he kinda has a "do not approach me unless you know me or are with someone who knows me" kind of aura. I've heard he used to be really friendly and kind of a party guy but he got a lot less social over time. But if people actually do get to talk to him, they almost, like, hang on his every word. Especially newer stylists or ones from smaller magazines. So, yeah, I guess that's what he's like. He's really something. I liked him a lot though!"

Doyoung nods thoughtfully. "So he's pretty powerful in the industry, right?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely. He has a ton of influence. And I don't know, but I feel like he's also pulling more strings behind the scenes of stuff than people think." Tiffany says it in a conspiratorial voice, like she's imparting upon him a true bombshell of knowledge. "I also get the impression that it's like, what Jiyong wants, Jiyong gets."

"Hm." Doyoung mulls it over, taking a key lime petit four from the tray. He's not totally sure how to synthesise this new information, or what he can even do with it. It feels like a puzzle piece, but he doesn't know what it actually adds to the picture. Maybe it gives him a better sense of scale, but past that, he's not certain. He's not even sure why he asked in the first place. The lime curd filling is a lot more sour than he expected, and he finds himself scrunching his nose up.

"Well, enough about me! Let's talk about you!" Tiffany is giving him a look of such interest that he knows he's finally not going to be able to wiggle out of it this time. "Like, what weddings have you done lately? Have you gone anywhere cool? Ooh, is there anyone special in your life? Y'know, guys, girls, anything like that?"

Doyoung's not even sure where to start with the weddings (definitely not Nightmare Client or Halloween Hell), and he's not gone anywhere cool in a depressingly long time, so he might as well start with _that_ question. Again. At least he's got his new mantra of _so what?_ , and with Tiffany he feels like he can be totally honest. She's never passed judgement upon him in much sadder circumstances, so it's unlikely she'll start now.

"Um. No one special," Doyoung says. "I mean, I haven't got a lot of time or options. I wasn't meeting any good guys — I did meet some interesting horror stories though, I guess? And … I don't think I'm going to have a lot of luck with girls." This is true. He's not optimistic in that regard. Not only is it increasingly seeming like his type of girl might be lesbians, but he's historically not had a good track record with them. The last girl he attempted to ask out replied with _why are you looking for a beard? I mean, you're a wedding planner … everyone already knows_. This did not help his confidence. "So I'm just. Not really trying to find anyone right now."

"Oh my god, I know what you mean about guys. Been there, decided not to do that. I mean, they're fun for a while, and I love the abs, but I didn't think I'd actually end up marrying one … and obviously I didn't. But Taeyeon's abs are amazing too, so." Tiffany laughs, and Doyoung can't help joining in. "But, you know, guys can be fine! Nothing wrong with them. Well, some of them. There are good ones out there that I'm sure you can find … once you weed out the horror stories." Tiffany smiles encouragingly. "And no matter who it is, love happens when you're least expecting it. And often with the person you're least expecting. I mean, I just went out to get frozen yogurt one morning and fell in love with a Broadway star with a law degree! So, you never know."

It reminds him of what Ten said: _it takes time for the right people to cross your path, but they always do_. Doyoung nods slowly. "That's true. I guess you do never know."

Tiffany sips her tea, and then her face lights up with a sudden recollection. "Oh! I saw Gongmyung is the male lead in that new show — what's it called, I don't remember, _Future_ something — well, I'm sure you know which one I mean. It's really good! You must be so proud of your brother! Have you been watching it?"

Doyoung bristles. Suddenly, he feels very stiff. "No."

"Oh." Tiffany looks surprised. Her voice is quieter and full of concern when she asks, "Still …?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Tiffany reaches out and takes his hand, sounding sympathetic. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring, like, _stuff_ up. I just thought that maybe by now you would …"

"No."

Doyoung feels bad for being so short with her, but this isn't a topic he can deal with, especially right now. There's a good chance he's not going to want to deal with it ever again. He's not been watching the show, but of course he knew about it. He doesn't keep up with whatever Gongmyung does — tries not to, really — but it's impossible not to hear about him. Gongmyung seems to be everywhere. His face pops up on TV screens, his name appears on news websites, his characters get sprinkled into conversations. There are stretches of time where it temporarily dies down, but with this new show it's absolutely unavoidable. It feels like nearly every corner of the internet he likes has been swamped with gossip articles, episode recaps and thinkpieces, _5 Things You Didn't Know About Gongmyung_ (he did) and a deluge of headlines and photos with the occasional gif. He can't get away from hearing about what Gongmyung is up to, and what he's accomplishing. Like even now, years later, the universe wants to force the comparisons between their lives that Doyoung desperately wanted to end. Some days, it feels like he can't escape Gongmyung.

But he's sure their parents are happy about that. This is what they wanted, really: to see Gongmyung everywhere, and Doyoung nowhere at all.

After several moments of silence, he draws his hand away from hers and leans down to pull some things out of his bag. "Okay, so, let's discuss what you've got in mind for the wedding."

"Yes!" Tiffany's face lights up. It's clear how excited she is about this, and Doyoung can't blame her. She's got a wonderful fiancée, plenty of hopeless romanticism and a lifelong love of party planning with the skills to match. A wedding is probably when she'd be most in her element. "Obviously it's going to be huge! We want glamour, sparkle, class, all of it. Don't be worried, though. I'll help you a lot with the design and decor, Taeyeon can help with the finances and contracts, I've got the names of a bunch of vendors we can throw into the mix and some of my friends will totally help with all the stuff related to the big day itself. So it's going to be okay. I know you've worked on a team like this before, except, like, this time you get to be the head planner from the beginning and also we're not awful and trying to sabotage you and work you to death, so it'll be great!"

Doyoung winces. They fell out of touch before things got intense during Yunho and Changmin's wedding, but she was well aware of everything going on during Kyuhyun and Zhou Mi's. While Yunho and Changmin's was much worse, what she heard about Kyuhyun and Zhou Mi's was more than enough for her to get an idea of what those kind of weddings and that event planning company in general were like. Both experiences were, in one word, dreadful. He was blatantly misled about both what he would actually be doing, and how _much_ of it he would be doing. His cost-benefit analysis on whether to accept those jobs might have been very different had he known the truth. In both cases he spent a few months as the human embodiment of the concepts of "anxiety" and "overtime", and by the end of Yunho and Changmin's wedding he had begun to define a relaxing day as any day that didn't involve a temporary overload and shut-off of his brain and/or a debilitating bout of stress nausea. He had really taken for granted the simple blessings of not randomly mentally rebooting and being able to keep all his meals down. The sabotage also wasn't an exaggeration; he was pulled into an unhealthily competitive culture where most of the existing staff weren't pleased about an outsider waltzing in and being given a tremendous amount of responsibility and authority, and were more than happy to pile onto that workload and display said displeasure in their treatment of him. He sometimes still wakes up from terrifyingly vivid nightmares that can only be shaken off by looking at his portfolio and convincing himself those crowning jewels were worth it.

"I will appreciate the lack of exploitation and mistreatment," Doyoung says, in the understatement of the century.

"I could never do that to you! I like you a lot," Tiffany replies. "So, okay, we haven't decided on an _exact_ budget yet but it's definitely going to be enough for you to have a lot of creative freedom with design and get so much stuff! We're thinking, like, maybe half of Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston's before inflation? Dream dresses aren't cheap, you know, and we have to get two! We'll figure it out for sure a little later, is that okay?"

"Yes, it's totally fine," Doyoung reassures her. For anyone else he would probably be tearing his hair out and begging them to just pick a number, because this is really something the couples are meant to figure out _before_ they hire someone to put that number to use, but this is Tiffany and so he doesn't mind.

"Okay, great! We'll decide really soon, I promise." Tiffany makes a crossing-her-heart sign, and it's very convincing.

"Here's my contract," Doyoung says, and hands her two copies of it. "The details and requirements and service descriptions are all pretty typical. Since it's going to be a high-budget wedding with a lot of people involved, just ignore the part about how the usual commission is calculated; you can decide for yourself how to split that up. Honestly, you can just set any schedule you want and I'll work around it. So take this home and decide all the final numbers and dates with Taeyeon, then you can both sign it once you're comfortable with all the details. We'll meet up again within the next few weeks for me to sign it as well."

"So professional," Tiffany says. She smiles sentimentally as she folds the papers and tucks them into the white leather bag that probably costs more than his monthly rent. "Oh, you're so grown up now. You come with terms and conditions and everything."

"I'm not entirely grown up yet. People still sign my contracts with sparkly neon gel pens," Doyoung replies with a wry smile.

"Oh! I brought you a gift! I can't believe I forgot until now. Wow, it would be terrible if I left without giving it to you!" Tiffany laughs, and rummages in the handbag whose distinctive lock detail he's definitely _not_ going to use to look up its price later after succumbing to morbid curiosity. After a few moments, she emerges with a little parcel of tissue paper tied with a white ribbon. She places it in his hands like she's handing over a precious gem, then looks at him expectantly as he tugs on the ends of the bow in an attempt to get it open without resorted to frustrated ripping. He finally manages to free the item inside, which turns out to be a black silk tie with diagonal silver stripes that upon further inspection are made of small words. He'd have to hold it up to his face and squint to read them, so he makes a mental note to do so later. "I spent a week in Paris shopping after Fashion Week ended, and I was in this cute little boutique and saw this! I was just texting you, and I know you always need more ties, so I like, _had_ to get it for you."

"Thank you," Doyoung says, in a voice he hopes isn't too emotional. He has a weird urge to hug the tie, which is probably a manifestation of his desire to hug Tiffany that's being put on hold by the merits of not knocking over everything on the table trying to reach across it. "I … you're right, I always need more, and … thank you for thinking of me. I really love it."

"You don't have to thank me! You just have to wear it to my wedding," Tiffany replies. "Oh my god, I am _so_ excited."

"I am too." Doyoung looks down at the tie, feeling a possibly disproportionate warmth in his heart, and wraps it as carefully as he can back in the tissue paper and places it in his bag to avoid any unfortunate tea-related incidents. This time there's no hollow feeling at all when he says, "I'm really happy for you."

"Thank you! And … I'm so proud of you, you know?" Tiffany extends her hand. Doyoung places his own in it, and Tiffany squeezes it. The diamond-encrusted band of her generously-bejewelled engagement ring digs into his finger, but it doesn't hurt. "Oh my god, I remember when you first started university. You were so _small!_ And now you're planning my wedding. Okay, I promise I'm not going to cry, because I could never waste Dior mascara. But you worked so hard to get here, and I know it wasn't easy for you. You had, like, no confidence at all, and it totally broke my heart how discouraged you were. But you just kept moving forwards despite everything, and now you're living your dream. I wanted this for you _so_ much. It makes me really happy to see it."

"I'm glad to be living my dream," Doyoung says. He was planning to have met her eyes again by now, but for some reason, he can't do it. Instead, he squeezes her hand back. "I only made it because of you. If you'd not taken me under your wing like that, and supported me when no one else would …"

"Then you still would have found your way. I believed in you," Tiffany says. A few seconds pass in silence like that, quietly holding each other's hands in the midst of a sudden cloud of memories and nuances and unspoken things. Then Tiffany says, a little more softly, "Doyoung?"

"Hm?"

"I'm really sorry. I didn't know things were still like that, or I wouldn't've brought that up." Her voice is gentle, and so apologetic he feels guilty. "I'm … seriously, I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Doyoung finally looks up, and gives her a smile. "You didn't know, so don't feel bad. I'm sure the show is really good, so you'll have to give me a recap once the season ends."

They linger for a few minutes after paying the check, despite the fact that they've long since finished their tea. Doyoung manages to get another two Fashion Week stories out of her before it's undeniable that they've both got work to get back to. They finally stand up and gather their things, and he bends down to hug Tiffany again. He always feels like a giant next to her, but somehow she still makes him feel very small.

"It's really been so great to see you," Tiffany says, holding him in the hug for a while longer. "Oh my god, we are going to have _so_ much fun with this wedding."

"Yeah," Doyoung says with a smile, and tightens the hug even as her hair attacks his face and his painfully bent spine cries out in protest. "I'm really looking forward to helping you live another dream too."

 

 

The morning of Joonmyun and Jongdae's wedding dawns snowy and gorgeous, and Doyoung is praying the whole way to their reception hall. At this moment in time, he's got no way of knowing whether he's going to be back in his element. After whatever the hell happened on Halloween, with its dizzying roller coaster of ups and downs, it seems like a total toss-up whether he'll be able to get back into, and stay in, his zone. Pretty soon, though, he's going to find out. It's time to put his new attitude and newfound confidence in his ability to claw his way back up from the abyss to the test. 

Joonmyun and Jongdae's wedding has been one of the more drama-free ones he's had this year, much to his relief. They're both rich and busy and have given him a lot of free reign, and are very amicable and easy to please. Their habit of apologising for any difficulties that have arisen during the process, whether or not it was their fault, makes him feel a bit guilty, but in the grand scheme of things that's a very good problem to have. After they've kindly decided not to fan the flames of his hell of a life, he'd like to be able to pay them back by giving them the smoothest marrying experience possible.

The set-up for the reception goes shockingly well. The furniture is already in place when Doyoung arrives, which feels like a gift from the heavens considering that his depressingly low bar for it to clear was "actually there". The vendors all arrive right on schedule, neither too early nor too late, and execute their own tasks well enough that he's able to stand back and gawk at the proceedings in a state of disbelief. This seems like it could be the universe paying him back for everything it put him through on Halloween (operating on a similar principle to how Halloween was potentially retribution for not suffering enough during the preceding wedding). At the church, he's also able to easily guide the musicians to where they should be and locate the very well-prepared officiant in a matter of minutes. Admittedly, he spends the whole time waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it's increasingly begun to seem like there might not be one.

Shortly before the ceremony, Jongdae and Joonmyun call him aside with the preface that they'd "like to talk to him". Doyoung braces himself for the absolute worst, certain that _this_ is the point where it finally all falls apart. Just when he's praying that his face isn't reflecting the anticipatory cringing his soul is doing, Joonmyun puts a hand on his shoulder and smiles. "I want to thank you so much. You've made everything so perfect for us that we've been able to concentrate entirely on our special day, and you don't know how much of a gift that is. Really, you've been such a blessing."

"Thank you," Doyoung says, and struggles not to get choked up. With a tentative smile, he adds, "You probably don't know either how much of a gift it is for you to say that."

The ceremony goes off without a hitch too. It helps that a lot of the time is taken up by their vows; they wrote their own, which are absolutely beautiful, but each of their vows is the length of all the scriptures read combined. It's nice, though, that they've got so many feelings about each other. Doyoung's sure if Ten were here, his divorce senses would not be tingling. He feels a little too proud of himself for not tearing up at the beauty of the ceremony, considering the disconcerting frequency with which he's been crying during wedding days lately; this is probably because he zones out about a quarter of the way into Joonmyun's vow, but he's going to chalk it up to increased emotional stability in order to feel a little better about himself.

They exit the church without nearly forgetting to actually _become_ married (it's amazing the difference an actual officiant can make), and then half the battle is over. Doyoung is still waiting for that other shoe — he's _always_ waiting for the other shoe — but it's nowhere to be found at the reception either. It's a classy and somewhat buttoned-up affair with candlelight and violin music and minimal dancing, and none of this goes awry. Everything wraps up at a fairly reasonable hour, due to the fact that Jongdae and Joonmyun's families are all very stoic rich people who don't believe in emptying the open bar or going home at a time that stretches into the next morning. While there's a lot of clean-up to do for the elaborate reception, Doyoung would much rather do it at 9PM than 1AM, and that alone makes the workload feel ten times lighter.

Doyoung is aware, of course, that this went far too well. Even if nothing at this wedding came crashing down, the current order of things means there's a huge possibility the next one will be an absolute trainwreck. Still, an hour into the reception he actually managed to put that out of his mind. For tonight, at least, he lets himself enjoy the relative peace and stability.

At least.

Once the majority of the guests have left, Joonmyun and Jongdae approach him again. This time they're beaming ear to ear, and immediately pull him into a small group hug. "Thank you so much. You're amazing. We'll recommend you to everyone. I think you might be the best wedding planner in the world," Jongdae tells him, a little muffled by the hug, and it feels like it shakes something deep-rooted that Doyoung can't place. He wants to believe Jongdae. He really does. It's probably a bit of an exaggeration, but he can tell it's said with utmost sincerity. He doesn't think he'll be able to let it stick with him in the long-term, but just for today, maybe, the praise sinks in. He pushes away that sinking feeling deep down that knows it will fade, and at least for now it feels amazing.

At least.

 

 

One of the most familiar experiences in Doyoung's life is being woken up by Ten's favourite song to shake his ass to. 

He did not seek out this experience. Ever since Ten became the only other person granted unrestricted access to Doyoung's phone (a rite of passage that occurred exactly one week after they first met and became instant best friends), he's taken it upon himself to frequently change his custom ringtone to his current "hoe jam" — his words, not Doyoung's — and update his contact name. So there's something almost comforting about the fact that it's 4AM and a twerk-worthy banger is blaring in Doyoung's ear. He doesn't even need to see the screen announcing a video call from "sexy babe ten xoxo" (interspersed with an assortment of sparkle, heart and peach emojis) before he's fumbling blindly to simultaneously answer it and switch on the lamp beside his bed. 

"Aloha!" Ten exclaims, in a voice far too ecstatic for Doyoung's still-rebooting brain, and then lowers its volume significantly when Doyoung finally manages to get his bleary half-alive face within the range of the camera. "Oops, did I wake you up? Oh my god, I'm sorry!"

"No, 's okay," Doyoung mumbles through a yawn. "Just a nap."

This is true. When he scheduled this call with Ten, he planned for it to function as an alarm of sorts. He's got so much to get done … tonight? tomorrow? in an indistinguishable time limbo? … that more than three hours of sleep isn't an option. Every last detail needs to be quadruple-checked for his two weddings next month, both of which have daunting lists of decorations he still needs to obtain or create; two potential new clients are simultaneously putting him through the third and fourth most extensive vetting processes he's ever had to deal with; he's playing schedule tetris with far too many pieces while setting up cake and catering tasting appointments for spring and summer weddings; Nightmare Client 2.0 has decided to change her venue and is relying on him to somehow get her out of her current venue contract and into a new one without incurring exorbitant fees; and the stack of other contracts he still needs to review is getting frightening. The only bearable thing on his to-do list is corresponding with Hani about a cake for some clients who, for inexplicable reasons, can never manage to call her during the bakery's business hours. The worst is, as usual, continuing to strive in vain for inbox zero by slogging through an overwhelming deluge of unread emails. He's not actually had those three hours of sleep, with the way he was kind of half-dozing off and still occasionally checking his phone for the first hour of his nap, but it's as much as he's going to get.

"Are you sure? Maybe you should go back to sleep," Ten says, giving him a sympathetic look. "I feel bad about calling you at … it's 4AM for you, right?"

"This is when we usually talk anyway," Doyoung points out, vigorously rubbing his eyes in an attempt to make them look a little more alert. It works, kind of. "I'm not going back to sleep after your ringtone anyway. I'll dream about taking half my clothes off on a dance floor and kissing random guys for free drinks, which is _your_ thing."

"Okay," Ten concedes. "I mean, I've only publicly stripped like four times, but okay."

Doyoung's arm is falling asleep from the angle at which he's holding his phone above his face, putting said phone in danger of being dropped on said face, so he slowly drags himself into a sitting position and stretches before re-adjusting his hold. Ten smiles at the way he scrunches up his nose as his muscles scream in protest at being forced to move, and Doyoung finds his usually disgruntled-looking features morphing into something like an answering smile. "How is it going over there?"

"Over there" is Hawaii, because Ten's elaborate destination wedding has finally reached its final stage. That stage is made up of five days of non-stop festivities, which Ten was all too happy to put together despite the immense difficulty of doing so. Ten's calling him from an extremely luxe hotel room, and as he makes his way through it, Doyoung catches a glimpse of a large chandelier and a coffee maker that probably costs more than what will be left in his bank account after he pays this month's (slightly late) rent. Ten flops down on the enormous bed and sprawls out on the fluffy white expanse of it, sighing happily. "It's amazing. I'm having the time of my life. And I'm getting a gorgeous tan. I take back everything bad I said about this destination wedding thing. It is the _best_."

"So I guess it was worth all the work then," Doyoung says.

"Oh, beyond worth it," Ten replies dreamily. "This couple is loaded. They've both got huge families who are paying for a _lot_ of stuff, so it's been totally crazy. Way over the top. We're staying at this resort with ocean views to die for, a pool bar and a spa — I've spent all of my few hours of free time in the spa. You need to go get a lomi lomi massage at some point, because I swear it just melted away several months of tension. They've made me part of the wedding party, so I'm getting brought along to all the incredible restaurants and parties and it is just so great. I'll have to go into all that later, though, because it's about a million stories and it's too late for that. For both of us."

And it's awful, but as Ten has been talking, something inside Doyoung has been getting a little darker. A little uglier. He's happy for Ten, he really is, because he's always happy for Ten and always wants to be. But beneath it, that dark and ugly thing — no. He doesn't get to dodge responsibility for the feeling by refusing to name it. It's jealousy, plain and simple. He's jealous. He's so fucking jealous. He can't imagine getting to stay at a resort, or attend a lavish party without being treated as the planner, or go to a spa. He can't imagine experiencing _anything_ that would melt away several months of tension he desperately needs gone. There's just no time, money or opportunities for any of that in his life. He's positive he'll never go gallivanting around tropical islands within the next few decades, because no one's offering him destination weddings. No one ever has. He and Ten started out in almost the exact same place, but over time, their outcomes have become more and more different. It makes him wonder what he's doing wrong. So he plasters a smile on his face, because the jealousy is awful and he hates it, then forces himself to keep smiling.

"I wish you were here, though," Ten says, rolling over onto his front to hold Doyoung at a face-level angle. "It would be even more fun if you were here. But I'm taking lots of pictures — sorry, I know I keep forgetting to send you stuff — and I got you presents. I got a whole bunch of Kona coffee, plus these amazing chocolates with macadamia nuts and caramel. You might actually die and go to heaven when you taste them. They are so good I could eat nothing but those for the rest of my life."

"You're the best," says Doyoung, making a little two-finger heart that ends up looking more like a lopsided X. "I love you."

"Oh, I know. I am the best of the best," Ten replies, blowing the phone camera a kiss. After a second, his eyes glaze over and he lets out a long dramatic groan while squiggling up the bed until his face is half-sunk into his pillow. "Okay, I need a second to recharge. I've been talking literally all day. You talk for a while."

"Um, okay." Doyoung tries to think. He's not been up to anything nearly as exciting as Ten has, and the general state of his daily existence would kill Ten's vibe, which he doesn't want to do. After a second of racking his brain, he comes up with some positive things. "My wedding a few days ago went fine, so the universe must've decided Halloween punished me enough for now. I met up with Tiffany to talk about her wedding, and it was really nice to see her again." For a second he runs out of things, his brain flooded with all the items on his to-do lists, but then his mind helpfully provides him with a piece of one of Ten's favourite things — gossip. "Oh, and Rubbish Bin Asshole apologised."

Ten perks up, lifting his face out of the pillow. "What?"

"Yeah. I went to Johnny and Taeyong's for dinner, and he told me he was sorry for being a horrible person to me and promised to be less horrible in the future." Doyoung feels like this is starting to sound _too_ optimistic, so he adds an eye-roll to make it a little more in line with the reality of the situation. "I mean, we got into another fight first and I had to actually remind him about what happened because he somehow _forgot_ he was incredibly rude to me, but he apologised."

"Character development!" Ten exclaims. "Did you forgive him?"

"Yes." Doyoung lets out a world-weary sigh. "Again. I really wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but I guess I just don't want this situation to be more of a pain in the ass than it has to be."

"He's not worth a hurt ass," Ten agrees, and then a pensive look crosses his face in the space of two seconds. "Okay, just a question, but have you decided how many chances you're going to give him?"

Doyoung blinks. Somehow, he hasn't. He's been taking this on a case-by-case basis, trying not to think too far into the future because it reminds him of how long he's going to be stuck with Yuta as a regular fixture in his life. "Um … no."

"Maybe you should." Ten makes a sceptical face. "I mean, I encourage getting along with the wedding party, but he's — all tea, all shade, bitch, all offence — kind of a dick. Getting along doesn't mean you have to put up with an unreasonable amount of shit. You should set a limit of how many times you're going to forgive him, and stick to it. Otherwise he's going to think he can keep doing whatever he wants because in the end the slate will get wiped clean."

"Good point," Doyoung concedes. "I guess I was figuring whenever I hit my absolute breaking point — like, cross the event horizon of the total enmity black hole — I'll tell him to fuck off permanently."

"Three chances is my rule." Ten holds up three fingers, then puts two of them down one-by-one. "That's the hedge maze incident and the wedding attire meeting. So he's got one more pass for a major fuck-up and apology, and once he uses that up, it's zero tolerance from that point on."

"That's fair," Doyoung agrees. "Fourth time, no mercy."

"Good!" Ten says brightly. Then, "But if he pisses you off again, tell him to meet me behind the nearest sketchy diner at 2AM. I just wanna talk."

Doyoung smirks in approval. "Go off."

"Oh, I _absolutely_ will."

They spend a few moments in comfortable silence, both readjusting their positions on their beds to obtain the optimal balance of comfort and flattering camera angles. Doyoung can't find a flattering camera angle, so he gives up and goes for comfort. Ten's seen him in much worse states. After they both take a little while to relax and think, Ten speaks again. "This reminds me of the sleepovers we used to have. Do you remember those? Not the normal ones where we just stayed at each other's places, but like, the special ones. Where we made brownies and got drunk and I made you watch Food Network with me while you filtered out my Tinder and Grindr matches. And then because I love you, I let you put on House Hunters so you could mock couples with stupid kitchen opinions while we worked through your childhood trauma. You remember that, right?"

"How bad do you think my memory is?" Doyoung says with a derisive snort, but smiles anyway. "Of course I remember. We had a good time, even with the badly taken dick pics and my, um, two decades worth of unresolved issues."

"So many badly taken dick pics." Ten groans. "Seriously, it can't be that difficult — oops, I almost said hard — to figure it out. You can literally look up online how to take a dick pic that doesn't fail — see, I didn't say suck."

"You said both," Doyoung points out.

"Okay, whatever." Ten waves his very valid observation off with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "Anyway, what was I saying … oh, right. I'm totally sleep deprived so sorry if I have no filter right now, but I miss you. Like, in general, I miss you. We've not had one of those sleepovers in forever, and we don't even get to stay at each other's places anymore. I mean, we used to basically live together half the time, but now ... Yeah, we call and stuff, but we barely get to actually hang out. I don't know when that stopped or why, but I miss it." As Ten talks, there's a sadness growing in his eyes that surprises Doyoung. It's much deeper than he would've expected, if he'd even expected it at all. "So it hurts me to know you feel lonely and overwhelmed, because I feel like I'm not doing _enough_ , you know?"

"We're both busier than we used to be," Doyoung replies, rationally but gently, because he needs to lighten that sadness in Ten's eyes. "We've got a million places to be all the time and a billion things to do, so we can't go out to clubs or spend entire days doing nothing or live in a place that doesn't have our own desk. It didn't really stop, it just … had to adapt. Don't feel bad. It's seriously okay."

Even as Doyoung says it, _he_ feels bad. Which he probably should, since this is his fault. He's the reason Ten feels guilty, and he suspects he might be kind of an awful person if he's managed to make Ten feel guilty about life happening. Has Ten been worrying about this ever since Doyoung said all those things on Halloween? Knowing Ten, he probably has. And it's not fair, the way Ten's been emotionally burdened by Doyoung dumping that whole mess on him. Maybe he shouldn't do that anymore. Ten doesn't deserve to feel guilty just because Doyoung's got problems.

"I mean, it … yeah, okay, you're right," Ten concedes. "I promise I'm going to keep trying to hang out with you more, though. Because I honestly do miss you."

"I don't know why," Doyoung says wryly. He tries to sound like he's kidding, because he is, even though he's mostly not. "Your life might be better off with less of me. Actually, you should probably be glad we don't see each other as much these days. I'm just waiting for you to get tired of me."

"Oh my god, stop." Ten rolls his eyes. "I can't _believe_ you've not figured this out yet. I swear to god I'm not going to get tired of you. If I were going to, it would've happened a long time ago. And I don't love you any less than I used to so don't even try to go there next. Do not head down a single path that involves self-hatred. We talked about that whole "I'm awful and nobody likes me" thing, babe. We talked about it."

"We did," Doyoung admits. He's still always amazed at how strongly Ten believes he won't eventually get fed up with the constant string of disasters that is Doyoung. Deep down, part of him is still insisting that after so many years, Ten's ability to deal with this is going to start wearing thin. No one's patience is infinite, after all. But for now, he's overwhelmingly grateful for the reassurance that things between them are fine. That's all Doyoung needs, really. Reassurance. "No self-hating paths. And when you get back, we'll see each other soon."

"Absolutely. I need to give you the coffee and chocolate, so we literally _have_ to hang out. Even if it's just me crashing on your sofa for the night or something." Ten holds his pinky up to the camera and wiggles it, giving Doyoung an insistent look.

Doyoung rolls his eyes, but holds his pinky up as well and does the best imitation of making a pinky promise he can under the circumstances. "You'd never take the sofa. I've never seen you volunteer to take a sofa in your whole life. You're way too high maintenance."

"Wow, you totally clocked me." Ten laughs. "Okay, I have to go. I'm going to sleep, I swear. The pool and the spa just closed, so I won't end up at either of those. I mean, the pool bar is closed, but the regular bar is still open, so I could — no. I am not going anywhere. Although I could get room service to bring up some drinks and then get drunk on my balcony surrounded by the beauty of the ocean — _no_. I have to be up tomorrow. I need to stop having fun now. I am going to _sleep_."

"You are," Doyoung orders. "Good night, Ten."

"Aloha!" Ten blows a kiss, waves, then ends the video call.

Doyoung puts his phone down slowly, staring at the stretched-out blinds stuck halfway down the small bedroom window that definitely does not have an ocean view. His half burnt-out bedside light flickers pathetically, worlds away from being a chandelier. His over-used coffee maker is probably reaching the end of its lifespan too, and he'll replace it with the cheapest one he still trusts to get the job done. The closest thing he's got to room service is himself, so he drags himself painfully off his sagging mattress to go get his own drinks. He might not be able to order fancy cocktails on a balcony, but he can still take two ill-advised vodka shots in his freezing cold kitchen before getting back to work.

He feels much better than he did before Ten called, at least. Ten's like a bright ray of sunshine beaming down upon the forsaken wasteland that is his life, and few things are more comforting than the sound of Ten's voice, his laughter, his reassurances that Doyoung is still liked. That he's still _wanted_. He's been the only constant presence in Doyoung's life for four years, and one of the only things he can cling to. It's nice to be able to live vicariously through someone enjoying themselves, going places and doing things that he never can. So he does feel better, he really does.

Ten's definitely thrown his promises to sleep out the window and called for those drinks, so Doyoung feels like that grants him a pass from judgement as he roughly unsticks the door of a cabinet with a sagging shelf and fumbles around in it for the bottle he's looking for, along with the shotglass he keeps right next to it (because it makes sense from an organisation perspective to put things used together in the same area, not from a convenience standpoint because he uses them together often). The pouring of said shot becomes a more-or-less situation, since the lightswitch is too far away for him to bother with and he's operating purely under the light of the moon. He knocks it back without bothering to put the vodka bottle down, and finds himself wincing at the intense burn.

It's weird. He feels much better than he did before Ten called, but he also feels much worse. Ten's having the time of his life, like he always seems to be. His job is a lot more like Doyoung was picturing his own would be, back in the day. His love life is great, and he seems completely satisfied with his career path. Maybe it's just how things shook out, or maybe Ten's handling things better and taking better opportunities. (Well, Ten is definitely handling things better. That part is certainly true.) He just kind of wonders how things ended up like this. His mind has been helpfully suggesting for a long time that the problem is _him_ , and he still can't figure out how much to listen to it. He knows what he's meant to be thinking, what Ten told him to think on Halloween — _this needs to stop, so what, who cares, you're way too hard on yourself_ — but it's not been working. He's not internalising the words like they'd both been hoping he would.

The second shot is somehow worse than the first. It should be better, but it's not. Doyoung's wince becomes more of a full-on grimace.

He knows it's going to haunt him that Ten's been feeling bad because of him. How he's been thinking about everything Doyoung told him, worrying, _hurting_. All Ten ever wants to do is help, and Doyoung took advantage of that kindness to put way too much on him. He knows he was drunk on Halloween, but it doesn't matter. He still did it, and he does it plenty when he's sober too. Maybe he should stop talking about those things to Ten so much, because the last thing he wants to do is upset Ten. He might keep ending up as a terrible person, but he doesn't want to be.

Belatedly, Doyoung realises he forgot to tell Ten he was sorry.

Doyoung wasn't intending for there to be a third shot, but he forgot to put the bottle down again and so apparently there's going to be one. It's even worse than the second. It's funny, but Doyoung actually hates drinking vodka straight.

There's one thing he knows for certain, though. He needs to figure out how to stop feeling so _dark_. Both towards himself, and towards everything and everyone else. If he doesn't, it's going to eat him up inside. He's not sure how much he's got left for it to consume.

Doyoung contemplates the vodka again for several long moments, then tosses the shotglass into the sink and puts the bottle away.

 

 

Doyoung's sprawled on his living room floor surrounded by the wreckage of his latest painful productive spree, lacking the energy to gather up the mess or drag himself to any kind of proper seating after undergoing the ordeal of reaching inbox fifty (inbox zero will forever be a pipe dream), when his phone screen lights up. He reluctantly lifts it off the floor beside him like it's the weight of a brick, already groaning in anticipation of whatever _please-fuck-off_ -worthy nonsense Nightmare Client 2.0 has decided to bombard him with today, then lets out a sigh of relief and joy when he sees a text from Tiffany. He hasn't got the energy to crawl to his shower to drown himself either, so he's grateful he's not going to need it (yet). It's great having Tiffany back in his life. Her reappearance helped fill the void in his heart that he promised Ten he wouldn't care about anymore (he's still working on that), and he really can't overstate how pleasant she is to be around. Not to mention his regular Pinterest browsing has led him to stumble upon a board full of very fashionable crystal jewellery from up-and-coming designers that she'd likely be very interested in, and Ten just slept with the ex of a reality star she loves to hate and got some absolutely scalding hot tea from it that he can't wait to share with her. He also figured out what the tie says, which is _JUST LET US HAVE_ over and over, and he needs to ask her if it's just a random usage of English words that she still found cute or if there's some existential meaning behind it. He opens the full message, and then — 

And then.  
  


> From: Tiffany Hwang  
>  Hi Doyoung! It was great to see you again! I'm so sorry, I know we just decided to start planning my wedding together, but Taeyeon and I talked and we're going to put it off a little longer :( Meeting with you just solidified how much we're going to have to do to make this wedding happen, and we're both so busy with our careers that we're not in a place where we're ready to take that on yet! We may have rushed into setting a date so soon after getting engaged :( But we're not breaking the engagement or anything so of course I'll reach out to you once we think through the timing a little more and decide we're actually ready!! So sorry!!
> 
> From: Tiffany Hwang  
>  But really, I loved seeing you :) We should hang out again sometime!

  
Doyoung feels that same hollow, hollow feeling he got when she first texted him back in October.  
  


> To: Tiffany Hwang  
>  I totally understand. You're making a very smart choice by waiting until you're ready. I've seen what the planning stress can do to couples who rush things. I'm here when you're ready to pick back up, and I'd love to meet up whenever is convenient for you.

  
He puts his phone down, somehow knowing it's not going to light up with her name again at any point today. He doubts it will within the next several months, or however long it is until Tiffany and Taeyeon are ready to go through with the whole reason Tiffany started talking to him again. The reason she found a place for him in her life. 

_So what_ , he tries to think, because it's what he's meant to think. Because he's meant to try. It doesn't work. It's still not working, and he wonders if it ever will.

With immense effort, Doyoung finally drags himself to the sofa, leaving both his work mess and his phone behind on the floor.

 

 

This time, Doyoung's not the last person to arrive at the Wedding Party Party. He had a client cancel a fairly pointless "decor consultation meeting" that could have easily been conducted via a Pinterest board (okay, so he's been a little more addicted to Pinterest than usual lately, sue him) and almost cried in relief. He's spent the day running around between meetings and shopping trips and an extended debate with a caterer about whether she did in fact sign the contract he presented as proof, taking calls in the car on his way, and being given the unexpected blessing of a few moments to slow down was priceless. He decided to spend it straightening up his dishevelled appearance and making an attempt to look semi-good before showing up to the party almost on time. 

Thankfully, Johnny and Taeyong spot him soon after he enters the flat and wave him over before he can feel too awkward and out of place amongst the groups of socialising people he doesn't want to try to break into. Johnny must have been in charge of the cocktails again, because they're both fairly sober. "Doyoung!" Taeyong says happily, and pulls him into a hug that an Amaretto sour gets involved in (okay, maybe he's not all that sober). "I'm so glad you could make it."

"I'd be a terrible wedding planner if I didn't make it to a scheduled meeting," Doyoung points out.

"Nah. You're great. _So_ great." Johnny pats him on the shoulder, and — okay, maybe Taeyong was in charge of the cocktails after all. "So, okay, don't tell anyone about the drinks yet. We don't want anyone getting drunk until the serious stuff is over. But we had to test them while we were making them, so we tested a few, and, yeah. But it's cool. We're all gonna hang out for a while and then move onto the actual things so we'll be good by the time we'd be at risk of failing at measuring tapes."

Doyoung smiles. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Here, I'll give you a sip to help keep your lips sealed." Taeyong gives him a conspiratorial smile and hands the glass in his hand over. "I didn't drink from the paper umbrella side — Johnny, why would you even put a paper umbrella in an Amaretto sour?"

"Paper umbrellas get the party started," Johnny reasons.

Doyoung can't argue with that. He takes a sip of the cocktail, then hands it back to Taeyong (who nearly drops it, then giggles about that). It takes like lemon juice and almonds. It does not have an overwhelming alcohol content. He likes it. "Thank you. I needed that after the day I've had. I'm looking forwards to drinking several of those — are we limited to three again?"

"At this thing, yeah," Johnny says. "But we'd consider an afterparty."

Just when Doyoung thinks he's going to enjoy himself, a familiar voice nearby catches his attention and he inwardly groans. Yuta. They're currently getting along, but even then being around Yuta still puts him a little bit on edge. He's seen how quickly smooth sailing can turn into rough seas with just the slightest breeze of abrasiveness. He knows he's not meant to be assuming the worst of Yuta anymore, but he _did_ say he'd only start giving him the benefit of the doubt if he started showing he deserved it, and it's too soon to tell. Therefore, he can't help turning in the direction of the voice saying "— and, great news, I finally got that couple with the downtown loft apartment to listen to my voice of reason and do those updates in their kitchen and master bathroom. I even got them to succumb to the power of staging. How long have I been telling them they'll make back their investment plus a lot more? That vanity, horrific tile and "ironic" popcorn ceiling would've left it sitting on the market for at least another two weeks. Anyway, I want to go with your idea for the white quartz countertops and additional seating room at the kitchen island."

"Oh man, really?" another familiar voice chimes in. Doyoung looks down a bit to see Yuta's brought Mark with him today. Or, since Mark's in the wedding party, maybe a more accurate way to put it is that Mark brought himself along with Yuta and remained attached to him. Mark starts chattering on about some House Things that breeze past House Hunters level and sound like an extremely detailed page of HGTV magazine, but he's so adorably animated about it that it melts Doyoung's heart. His heart melts even further when Yuta smiles and ruffles Mark's hair, and Mark gives him a happy, slightly adoring look. Seeing Yuta with Mark kind of humanises him, like seeing a politician with a puppy.

"Did you meet Mark last time?" Taeyong asks. Before Doyoung can reply with _very briefly, I think_ , Taeyong clumsily links arms with him and leads him over in Mark's direction. "Let's get you two introduced!" Doyoung inwardly groans because Mark's direction is also Yuta's direction, but this interaction was inevitable and so he's going to try. He's really going to try.

"Hi!" Taeyong chirps to Mark and Yuta, still keeping Doyoung in a tight Amaretto-scented hold. "Mark, have you met Doyoung? He's our wedding planner. He's really nice! You should get to know each other." Doyoung is bracing himself for Yuta to snort or say something snarky or mutter a derisive comment like _nice is really overstating it_ or _nobody should ever get to know Doyoung_ , but surprisingly, there's nothing. Maybe Yuta _will_ earn the benefit of the doubt after all. Right then, someone calls out for Taeyong and he looks across the room, waving to them to acknowledge he's received the message. Finally he releases Doyoung, still blissfully oblivious to the prominently displayed cocktail that's not currently meant to exist. "Sorry, I've got to go take care of that. But have fun, and we'll get started with the measuring in a little while!"

Taeyong heads off in a slightly ungainly fashion, leaving Doyoung alone with Mark and Yuta. At least Doyoung's got Mark as a buffer against — no. Benefit of the doubt. "Hi, Mark. Nice to meet you again," he says. "And. Yuta."

"Hi." Yuta smiles at him, that same smile that always leaves him a little confused and warm. A second later, his phone rings. He checks it and then says, "Oh, I have to take this." The phone screen says _Super Shady Broker_. Doyoung doesn't ask. Yuta gives Mark a little half-hug and then heads in the direction of outside, answering the call with, "Yes, so, about that penthouse with the really weird hidden room … that took a bit of a turn and I'm not exactly sure how to explain it, but …" Doyoung also doesn't ask.

And then it's awkward. It's clear Mark's got no idea what to say now, but is too polite to walk away. But Doyoung might as well make an attempt at connecting with him, so he says, "So, you're Yuta's assistant, right?" Mark nods, because of course he is, and Doyoung builds off this. "That must be … an experience. You must have really good survival skills if you can do that job."

"It's not so bad," Mark replies. "He's, um … a little different than most bosses, but he's pretty cool. I like him."

_A little different_ seems like an understatement. Doyoung is polite enough not to point this out. "How long have you been working for him?"

Mark thinks. "A little over a year, I think … yeah. I started at the beginning of my junior year."

Right. Doyoung remembers Yuta mentioning that Mark is 21 (and in need of a life, but that's a different matter altogether). He has a brief moment of despair when he realises how small and bright-eyed and bushy-tailed university students now look to him — probably a function of how old he's been feeling lately — but forcefully dispels the wistful voice inside his head saying _ah, for the days of youth_. "Oh, so you've been with him for a while. How has that been?"

"Good. And, uh … interesting." An air of reminiscence comes over Mark's face, and he's clearly opening up to the conversation now. Doyoung is intrigued. He can't even imagine what a fountain of Yuta Stories Mark must be. "I wouldn't be here right now without him, so it's cool."

Doyoung nods. "You met Johnny and Taeyong through Yuta, right?"

"Yeah. I met almost all my friends through Yuta." Mark smiles bashfully. "I only moved to this country a couple years ago, and I didn't really try to meet people or anything … but after Yuta hired me he kept bringing me to stuff to hang out with his friends, and now they're my friends too."

"That's really sweet," Doyoung says, because it is, but part of him is wondering if Yuta was just trying to get a few extra hours of work out of Mark and the whole group-of-supportive-loving-friends thing was just a positive side effect of his scheme.

But then Mark says, "Yeah, he really wanted to help me make friends. Cause I was from another country and I didn't know too many people … he said he knew what that was like." His voice is quieter now. "How I felt."

"Oh." There's some kind of pang in Doyoung's heart, and then he feels a lot softer. Because that's right, Yuta _has_ been through that. He remembers how Yuta made his friends through Seulgi, and then through Johnny and Taeyong, in the exact same process. And it's really, sincerely sweet for him to help someone else going through that situation become a little less alone. Their whole social circle seems to be very into taking people in, making them part of others' lives and giving them a kind of family. Doyoung's heard that story a few times now, and wouldn't be surprised if it's happened a few other times as well. He can see why it's a recurring theme; Johnny and Taeyong have been so wholeheartedly welcoming to him that it only makes sense their nature would spread to the people they surround themselves with.

"Well, he must be a handful," Doyoung says after a few moments pass in silence, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah. A bit," Mark admits. "There's ... kind of a lot of stuff that wasn't in the job description. But of course it's not gonna list CPR or sudden trips to Malaysia or the paranormal so …" He trails off and gazes into the distance with a haunted look, clearly experiencing some intense flashbacks. He returns to reality about half a second before Doyoung would've become concerned the poor kid's got some kind of trauma. "But it's all good. He pays me well — like, _really_ well — so with that and everything he's done for me, I'm good with those things."

Doyoung is a little bitter that Yuta can not only afford an assistant, but afford to pay that assistant "like, _really_ well". And while it's nice that Yuta takes care of Mark financially, Doyoung is worried about whether he's doing as good a job of preserving Mark's emotional well-being. He assures Mark, "You can complain a little. It sounds like you go way above and beyond for him."

Mark considers it, then shakes his head. "I wouldn't really want to. He goes way above and beyond for me too, so it evens out."

"You're really dedicated to him," Doyoung says. He's deeply impressed not only by the extent of this kid's work ethic and self-sacrificing nature, but his ability to be so loyal to someone as challenging and demanding as Yuta. "And you're a really good assistant. I might've worked my ass off for my bosses when _I_ was an assistant, but I definitely wasn't this dedicated to them personally. He better appreciate you, because I don't know how you do it."

"He's worth it," Mark answers, with a raw and open honesty. "He's taught me a lot and trusted me with a lot of stuff and brought me on these crazy adventures I'd never get to go on otherwise, and got me a bunch of friends too. And …" He hesitates, like he's not sure whether to say it, but finally adds in a quieter tone, "He kinda saved my future, actually."

"What do you mean?" Doyoung tilts his head. Mark still looks a little hesitant, so he adds, "You don't have to elaborate if you don't want to."

"No, it's okay." Mark's voice is still quiet, and somehow vulnerable. "I almost had to drop out of university. Last year I figured out I couldn't afford to keep going. Because I was working for Yuta I could at least cover living expenses and books and stuff like that, but the tuition …" He shakes his head. "I couldn't do it. But when I told Yuta I was going to drop out, he asked if I'd definitely stay in school if I could, and when I said yeah, he said he'd pay whatever I needed to finish. I'd only been working for him for, uh, four months I think, but he was willing to pay my tuition for the next year and a half anyway. And he did. So … I'm only finishing school because of Yuta. I kinda owe him, well, everything. He can be kinda frustrating sometimes, yeah, but he's worth it."

Doyoung is absolutely floored. Beyond floored. He's _foundationed_. First, he's not sure what kind of money Yuta's got to just go around paying people's tuition, but it must be a decent amount. Doyoung's never thought about it, because Yuta doesn't seem particularly rich; he's inferred that Yuta does pretty well for himself in real estate, but he's not flaunting any vast sums of wealth, so the question of his finances just never crossed Doyoung's mind. Now that he's considering it, though, Yuta must have made quite a bit in his past career. It makes him wonder what more of the parts of Yuta's life he doesn't see are like. Second, he can't believe the amount of absolute generosity and kindness it takes for someone to unquestioningly offer up that much money to make sure their practically brand new assistant is taken care of, let alone coming from _Yuta_. It doesn't fit the image he has of Yuta at all. But it _is_ pretty consistent with the way everyone seems to love Yuta, inexplicably, despite how annoying he is. It lines up with the way they all treat Yuta as if, beneath all the difficulty, he's got a really good heart. Just from the way Mark talks about Yuta, it's clear Mark adores him. He talks about Yuta with stars in his eyes, and he's yet another person who clearly sees something in Yuta that Doyoung doesn't yet. Mark described him as _frustrating, but worth it_. "Frustrating but worth it" seems to be the general consensus on Yuta so far. Doyoung wonders if he's ever going to get past the _frustrating_ part to the _worth it_ part.

The only response Doyoung can come up with is, "I'm glad you have someone like that. Someone to help you when you really need it. I'm glad you have Yuta."

"Me too," Mark says, with such sincerity that Doyoung feels a pang in his heart again.

It's at this point that Taeyong calls out Doyoung's name from a few meters away, waving to him. "Sorry, I have to go see Taeyong," Doyoung tells Mark, and then he can't resist offering Mark a hug. Mark is adorable, of course, but Doyoung also admires the bravery it took to open up to him that much, to show that level of vulnerability just to tell someone about his mentor's amazing qualities. Mark accepts the hug, and Doyoung holds him tightly for a few seconds. "It was really nice to talk to you. Thank you for sharing your story with me. We'll run into each other again soon, okay?"

"Yeah, definitely," Mark replies when Doyoung finally releases him. Doyoung gives him a little parting wave, then heads off to address whatever it is that needs addressing.

He weaves his way through the crowd, following as much of Taeyong's back as he can see through the clusters of people, until they reach their destination. It turns out to be the Kitchen Island Headquarters, where Johnny and Jaehyun and Seulgi are already waiting. The island is furnished with clipboards and pens and measuring tapes, three things Doyoung is a huge fan of. "We're going to get started doing the wedding party attire measuring," Taeyong tells the assembled group. "Each of the clipboards has two names on it, so take one of them along with a pen and a measuring tape. All you have to do is find those two people, take their measurements and write them in the spaces provided. When you're done, you can bring the clipboards back here and then go back to enjoying the party. Is that okay?"

"Yep, got it," Jaehyun says, and grabs a clipboard. Seulgi grabs another one, then Taeyong, then Johnny, until Doyoung's left blinking at the one clipboard left. He's impressed not only at the efficiency of their approach to getting the measurement done and how prepared they are, but the incredible speed at which they set off. He picks up the remaining clipboard and checks the two names. The first one, written in Taeyong's impeccable handwriting, is _Sicheng_.

And.

Fuck.

The second one is _Yuta_.

Doyoung freezes up. Maybe he can escape this. Maybe he can slink off into the night and reappear a week later pretending he was kidnapped. Sure, they're "getting along" and doing the "benefit of the doubt" thing or whatever, but he can see this going downhill pretty quickly. Not only does the chance of them getting into some kind of altercation increase with every second they spend together until it approaches 100% (and only doesn't reach it because that's statistically impossible), this is going to be just plain _awkward_. Yuta might have turned him into a pillow in the past, and Doyoung might have not pushed him away, but that was completely alcohol-fuelled on both of their parts and it's pretty likely Yuta doesn't even remember it. Being forced to practically grope Yuta while both of them are fully sober seems like a recipe for disaster. So the most reasonable course of action in his mind is definitely to fake an alien abduction — but, no. Taeyong gave him a task, and Doyoung can't let him down or betray him with a blatantly falsified story. So with a heavy, heavy heart, he picks up a pen and a measuring tape and heads off to find Sicheng first.

Measuring Sicheng goes well. Doyoung assumed it would. Sicheng is another piece of evidence that all Johnny and Taeyong's friends are incredibly good-looking, and has a very subtle sense of snarky humour that keeps the situation from being awkward in the least. However, all good things must come to an end, and Doyoung's current good thing is not fucking dealing with Yuta. He prays for death to a few different deities — which he's unaware he's doing out loud, but it leads to Sicheng helpfully pulling a small vial out of his pocket and casting a blanket misfortune hex on anyone who might cause him to wish for death again, because apparently Sicheng's a slightly vengeful but generally well-meaning witch — but when he's not stricken down by any of them, he resigns himself to his fate and starts looking around for the thorn waiting to lodge itself in his side.

It's not hard to find Yuta in the crowd. It's never hard to find Yuta _anywhere_. He's always surrounded by a group of people, talking too loudly and laughing too often. Doyoung spots him in all of three seconds, and drags himself over. "Doyoung," Yuta says, sounding more pleased than Doyoung is. Really, anyone would be.

"Let's get this over with," Doyoung says, and waves the measuring tape in his hand.

Yuta pauses for a moment, and then a smirk comes over his aggravating handsome face. "Couldn't resist the opportunity to touch me?"

"Everyone else got to pick their lists first. This was not at all my choice," Doyoung replies flatly. "Now come on. I've got cocktails to drink, and you and this measuring tape are the only thing standing between me and merciful inebriation."

When Yuta doesn't immediately move, Doyoung takes him by the arm and hauls him off to the most distant and secluded corner he can find to get to work. He figures it's better if Yuta's removed from people who are likely to distract him, and also if no one sees him anywhere near Yuta and somehow doesn't notice the measuring tape and gets anything close to the wrong impression. That would be a horrible, horrible impression indeed. He looks Yuta up and down, lets out an internal sigh, and then scans the list of measurements again.

Doyoung figures he might as well start with the worst one and get it out of the way, and he knows exactly which it is — inseam. God. _Inseam_. Just thinking about the process of taking a measurement defined as "the crotch to the bottom of the leg" on Yuta makes him want to locate the nearest cliff and fling himself off it. Bracing himself for what's to come, he drops the clipboard and the pen and grabs Yuta's thigh to pull his legs slightly apart.

"Wow. I didn't expect you to be the type to feel a guy up so quickly," Yuta says with a grin. "If you wanted to get to second base with me, you could always have asked."

"Would you shut up?" Doyoung asks with a tinge of irritation, tugging Yuta's legs apart further to reduce the risk of touching any more than he absolutely has to.

"Not very polite," Yuta says, with that stupid teasing tone that drives Doyoung mad. Absolutely mad.

With the loudest sigh he's let out in his entire life, Doyoung kneels on the ground in front of Yuta. He hates it. He hates it so much. "Do _not_ put your crotch in my face. Do not move in the slightest. Do not even breathe," Doyoung warns, then places the edge of the measuring tape against — no, please, no — the top of the inside of Yuta's thigh. It is beyond awkward, even worse than he feared, and he's cringing so hard his face has almost contorted into a Picasso painting. "Oh my god, this is the worst."

He can somehow _hear_ Yuta rolling his eyes. "Just suck it up and get in there. Don't make this weird."

_Suck it up_ is the absolute last thing he wants to hear in this position. He's also beyond amazed that Yuta doesn't think this is _already_ weird. But the sooner he does this the sooner he gets it over with, so Doyoung holds the top of the measuring tape in place and stretches it down the length of Yuta's leg.

"Are you going to take me out to dinner after this?" Yuta asks, and Doyoung can somehow hear his smirk too.

"Can you stop?" Doyoung glowers at Yuta's shin because that's what's at eye level to him right now, but he plans to repeat the look at Yuta's face as soon as he finishes this measurement. After what feels like an eternity, he gets the proper number scribbled down on the clipboard at Yuta's feet and stands back up. Finally. Now that the worst is over, the rest should be practically nothing.

_Should_ be. But, of course, he encounters a problem. Which is that Yuta won't stop fucking _moving_. He shifts his weight between feet after closing his legs, stretches his arms and then _checks his fucking phone_. Of course he doesn't give a damn about the fact that Doyoung needs him to hold still, because severely inconveniencing Doyoung is just par for the course for him. Doyoung clears his throat and glares at Yuta until he finally looks up from his phone, stuffs it back into his pocket and blinks innocently, but still doesn't return to his previous statue state. He twists to the side to stretch again, and Doyoung loses it.

"Will you hold _still?_ " Doyoung snaps, forcefully turning Yuta back around to face him and planting his hands firmly on Yuta's hips to hold him in place. Yuta looks surprised, but then his eyes meet Doyoung's — and it's strange. Their eye contact just clicks into place and doesn't waver, and something passes through the link, but Doyoung doesn't know what. It's like that night in the club where Doyoung couldn't tear his eyes away, and Yuta didn't either. They're close, so close, with the way Doyoung was trying to trap Yuta against thin air with his body; he realises he ended up trapping Yuta against _him_.

With the way they're pressed right up against each other, Doyoung can feel Yuta's breathing, and he knows Yuta can feel his. Their combined body heat is caught between them, and Doyoung feels flushed; Yuta's still looking into his eyes, and he can't look away. Those perfectly-lined eyes are captivating, dark and deep, and he's falling again. He's teetering on the edge of something, drawn in by whatever's flowing between them, brain hazy from the heat. He doesn't know what's happening. He can't process any of it. He feels like he's disconnected from whatever's going on around him, and yet all too aware of his body.

"Will you hold still now?" Doyoung finally says, in a low and measured voice, after an indeterminate time of that breathing and contact until he manages to pull back from that edge and steel his gaze against Yuta's.

Yuta misses a beat. He _never_ misses a beat. And then, on the second beat, he says, "You could say please." His voice is snarky, laced with that teasing edge and underlaid by something smug, and just like that, the moment is broken. Whatever the hell it was is broken.

"I will not," Doyoung replies, in his own snarky voice, and it's over for sure.

But now, Doyoung feels a lot more concentrated. A lot more _electrified_. Somehow closer. Something in his energy has shifted, sharpened, and he's not sure what. He keeps his hands as steady as possible when he directs Yuta to stretch his arms out, guiding him into the right position to measure his chest. Yuta goes along with it obediently this time, unresisting, posing so perfectly he looks almost like a mannequin. Exactly the right angles. Open. Convenient. Doyoung wraps the measuring tape around him, and with how simple it is now, it makes him think.

It makes him think about all the times people have done this to Yuta over the years, sizing him up and reducing him to a set of numbers and determining whether they're perfect enough, as if mere statistics could convey all his qualities properly. He thinks about them deciding what to put him in, what to paint on his face, how to shape his hair, as if there were a way they could make him any more beautiful. And then taking those numbers, those inadequate numbers, and using them to tailor those things perfectly to his proportions like clothes made for a dress-up doll, then putting them on him in the same way.

He thinks about how Jiyong must have molded Yuta into exactly what he wanted.

Doyoung scribbles down the chest measurement and moves down to Yuta's waist, wrapping the tape around it as well. The number is small, smaller than it looks in his clothes, and of course it makes sense that he'd be one of those people blessed with a naturally tiny waist. He was born with all the right features for the career he ended up in back then. He writes that number down as well, then moves on to Yuta's hips, and is beyond grateful when that weird heat doesn't return. Yuta's face is blank and expressionless, like he's falling into a familiar muscle memory pattern, and Doyoung's certain he is. Those previously vivid eyes look far away, almost dissociated, and it's kind of unnerving. But having Yuta so still and unresisting, letting Doyoung move and fix him anywhere he likes, makes Doyoung's job much easier. He's able to speed through the measurements after that.

Doyoung's about to take one last wrist measurement when Yuta breaks pose. He lets out a little groaning noise and a whine of "god, my arms are falling asleep," then starts stretching again. Which Doyoung could handle, fine — he deserves it after how long he let Doyoung manoeuvre him around without complaint — but then he _checks his phone again_. Doyoung is stuck there staring in annoyance as Yuta scrolls through a bunch of notifications, completely oblivious. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, I just have to check if," Yuta says without breaking his focus on the screen, then trails off, attention fully absorbed.

Doyoung makes a vaguely aggravated sound. "How do you suck so much at being measured? You must've done this a million times. Unless the fashion world is so far ahead of us mere mortals that they're just using body scanners now."

Yuta slowly looks up from his phone. His posture changes almost imperceptibly, but it seems stiffer. It's a moment before he says in an unreadable voice, "You really pried a lot, didn't you."

"What? No." Doyoung frowned. "I already told you that Johnny and Taeyong provided me information about you which I do not care about in the least."

"That's pretty in-depth for something unprompted," Yuta says, voice getting colder. And he's right. It would be a straight-up blatant lie to say he didn't ask at all. If he briefly lifts the curtain of denial, he can hear whispers of the words _how did you end up with Yuta?_ and _why is he here now?_ But, of course, he drops that curtain again immediately. Yuta's voice is practically ice when he says, "And Taeyong and Johnny don't talk about things like that unprompted."

Fuck. Doyoung is caught. He can't reply with _well, they did_ because that's not right; he can't throw them under the bus and make it look like they betrayed Yuta's trust just to get himself out of trouble. That would be an incredibly messed up thing to do even if he didn't expect Yuta would ask them about it and he'd be instantly caught in the lie. He also can't say _okay, fine, maybe I prompted it a little_ , because Yuta's clearly already displeased enough that Doyoung's not going to make it any worse. They're both quiet for a moment, and the eye contact that passes between them now is very different to earlier.

"Well, whatever," Doyoung says, resisting the urge to mutter _wow, touchy_ because that definitely wouldn't end well either. He doesn't understand what the hell is going on here. It's not like this is some big secret, right? Prompted or not, Johnny and Taeyong still told him, which presumably they wouldn't if it was absolutely confidential. There's no way for it to be confidential anyway, considering the nature of it. But then again, it's nothing new for Yuta to get unreasonably bothered by small things due to whatever is going on in his head. Doyoung still has no way of knowing what those things will be, so he's not going to take this too hard.

Yuta slides his phone back into his pocket and extends his arms without any further protest, and Doyoung measures his wrists. Yuta hasn't met his eyes again. Doyoung doesn't know what to think about that. Neither of them talk until Doyoung has finished, written down the measurements, made sure he's not missing anything and gathered his supplies up to go. He's about to come up with some kind of snappy parting remark when Yuta speaks again. "How much did you pry into?"

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. "What?"

Yuta's voice has thawed over, lost its harsh edge, but it's not really any better. "How much did you get them to tell you?"

"Just that. That's seriously it," Doyoung says, and that's not _totally_ true, but it might as well be since he doesn't know anything else for sure so it probably doesn't count, right? Then, to smooth things over for Johnny and Taeyong to keep his fuck-up from affecting them, he says, "Why do you care anyway? Whatever you do with your life doesn't matter to me. I didn't even remember it until now. Besides, it's not like Johnny and Taeyong would give me your whole biography. So stop getting paranoid about it."

"I'm not paranoid." Yuta's tone is defensive, and negates the claim entirely. "I'm just asking questions. Something you seem to be totally fine with."

"Yes? I don't get your point." Doyoung is annoyed, and tired of Yuta. Yuta is annoying and tiring. "I know something about you that's not hard to find out, big deal. Literally anyone who flipped through several issues of various magazines five years ago would know. I have to put this clipboard back, so, I am going to go do that."

He heads off the second he finishes his sentence, making his way to the Kitchen Island Headquarters to return the clipboard and supplies. Two other measuring kits are back but no one else is there, so he stays for a moment to take a breather. He pulls out one of the stools tucked under the edge of the island and sits down on it, trying to process whatever the hell that entire interaction was. From the second he held that measuring tape up in front of Yuta to the time he stormed off, everything was an emotional roller coaster. He rubs his hands over his face slowly, finally resting his chin on his palms, and looks down at a pattern in the quartz countertop that looks a bit like a Rorschach test.

Doyoung is frustrated, and he's reaching another breaking point. He doesn't get Yuta. Yuta doesn't make any damn sense. He's annoying, but he's enjoyable enough to have around to be allowed to practically move into his best friends' home. He's a dick, but he's pleasant enough to charm everyone he comes across. He's dismissive, but he's empathetic enough to understand people's deepest pains. He's easily threatened by a new presence, but he's kind enough to bring lost lonely souls into his world. He enjoys tearing some people down, but he'll do anything to build others up. He'll try to shove Doyoung out of a job, but he'll pay his struggling assistant's tuition without a second thought. He's got razor-sharp edges, a diamond-hard shell and a heart of gold. Doyoung doesn't understand him. He _can't_. The more pieces of Yuta he discovers, the less he can put together a picture of him. Who the hell _is_ Yuta? It feels like he'll never know.

Johnny and Taeyong have finally put the cocktails out, so Doyoung looks up from the Rorschach test quartz pattern, gets up from the island, pushes his stool back in and makes his way over to the drinks table. He grabs one and downs it quickly. Possibly red flag quickly. He's been arguably having some alcohol-related red flag situations lately. Considering his life, he thinks they don't count as red flags; under the circumstances, they're justifiable.

Doyoung drifts for a while after that, having brief conversations with various members of the wedding party. He gives Taeil advice on Official-Looking Officiant Attire (robes are good); has a very insightful discussion with Irene about whether he should try ombre hair again (he should); lets Donghyuck vent about annoying things that happened to him today (everything, apparently); reassures Taeyong that his cocktails are the perfect strength (they are) and gets an answer to what exactly is in the vial in Sicheng's pocket ("don't worry about that, it works"). He's actually having a good time, pulling himself out of the weird funk that began to set in after the sharp turn of events earlier. Before he knows it, though, as tends to happen with a limited pool of conversation partners, he's drifting back in the direction of the same people he started the evening with.

"Hey, Yuta, I gotta get going," Mark's voice says from somewhere off to the left, and Doyoung finds himself looking over. "My Real Estate Capital Markets project group decided we need an emergency meeting, so Jeno is gonna pick me up in a few minutes."

"On Friday night?" Yuta scrunches up his nose. "You should've just pretended you didn't see the messages."

"Yeah, but, like … bad stuff happens when I'm not there," Mark replies, with an underlying anxiety that makes it clear he's dealt with far too much already. He lets out the sigh of someone with the weight of the world on their shoulders, then leans in to give Yuta a hug. "Okay, I'll see you on Monday for the open house. And get those documents sent over to you by tomorrow night —"

"Just let the weekend be the weekend, kid." Yuta smiles and returns the hug, ruffling Mark's hair. "You deserve it."

When Mark finally pulls away, he looks up and sees Doyoung. Doyoung immediately feels weird for being caught staring, and wonders if he should look somewhere else and pretend he was looking there all along or if that would be even weirder, but then Mark waves. "Hey, Doyoung. I'm gonna head out."

Doyoung goes over to him, even though that means going over to Yuta, because it's clearly the polite thing to do. "Okay. It was nice meeting you — well, again. I really enjoyed talking to you."

"Yeah. You too." Mark smiles at him, and really, he's unbearably adorable. "Okay, I'm gonna go say goodbye to Johnny and Taeyong. See you at the next thing."

"See you then," Doyoung replies. Mark heads off, and then he is, once again, stuck with Yuta. The best idea is to get out of here himself, and he knows it, but some part of him is telling him he should try to smooth over whatever hostility might be remaining between him and Yuta. He doesn't know exactly how much there is on Yuta's end, but something very optimistic and foolish inside him is insisting he should figure that out and fix it. That if he doesn't tackle it now, it's just going to build and fester until the next time they see each other, at which point one wrong look will be like dropping a match into a powder keg. So instead of bolting for the door, he tries to bridge the gap with something they can both agree on — one of the only things, really — which is Mark. "I wish I had an assistant like Mark. He's great. And he seemed like a really good kid when I got to talk to him earlier."

"Oh, were you prying with him too?" In an almost dizzying moment of whiplash, Yuta's voice has gone from the warm and reassuring tone he used with Mark to the same cold and standoffish one he used with Doyoung earlier.

"Why do you think I care so much?" Doyoung counters, even though he _was_ prying. Even though he does care. And he can't figure out why — maybe it's a morbid curiosity, maybe it's his natural desire to gravitate towards potentially juicy gossip, maybe it's just his need for people to make sense and the fact that Yuta doesn't at all — but he can't stop prying. He can't stop caring. And he's well aware what a fucking hypocrite he is, but he says, "Isn't it a little arrogant to assume I can't have a conversation with someone without it being about you?"

"I don't know, Doyoung." Yuta says his name like it's an insult, and it tenses every nerve in Doyoung's body until they're all poised to snap. "I don't know _what_ you ask people when I'm not around."

Doyoung finally loses patience. "Okay, first of all, don't talk to me like that. And second, where did you even get off calling me "aggressively defensive" when _this_ is how you react to things? That's throwing stones from a glass house. You practically ripped my head off just for knowing a basic fact about you."

"You think _that_ was ripping your head off? You haven't seen anything, then." Yuta laughs, and it's ugly. It's dark, it's menacing, and it's amused for a reason Doyoung doesn't understand. "Let's get this straight. I've never snapped at you, I've never yelled at you, I've never threatened you. You've spent the whole time I've known you snapping, yelling, cursing me out, wishing terrible things upon me, telling me I shouldn't even be here at all. So, looking back on all that, do you still think _I'm_ the one ripping someone's head off?"

Doyoung takes a step forwards, and he knows he's probably going to regret whatever he says, but he doesn't care. "Oh, do you want to look back on things? Because we can look back on you too. Just because you didn't do any of that doesn't mean you did nothing. Instead you've been insulting me, demeaning me, condescending me, mocking me, and then thinking you could get out of taking responsibility for hurting me because you "weren't being serious" until I finally refused to let it slide anymore. And if you think that's any better, I'm sorry to tell you that you are wrong. As you usually are."

"So we're both shitty people, is that what you're saying?" Yuta laughs again, sardonic and twisted, and Doyoung can't fucking stand it. Nothing about this is funny to him. He doesn't know what the hell about it is so funny to Yuta. "Wow, what a revelation. This was a really productive discussion."

"Oh, one of our discussions hasn't been productive?" Doyoung replies, in the same tone, with a little scoff. "Another revelation. Who could've expected that?"

"Two revelations! Job well done. Let's call it a day, go our separate ways and reflect on how we should both feel bad about ourselves." Yuta waves a hand airily, with a sort of bitter derision. "Maybe while replaying this conversation in our heads, we'll both get some esprit d'escalier and feel good about how we totally put the other one in their place somewhere in the multiverse. Congratulations from my hypothetical infinite selves, and fuck you to yours."

Yuta turns and strides out of the room, not even pausing to say goodbyes. It's funny, Doyoung thinks; up until now it's been him in Yuta's position. It's always been him storming out because Yuta went too far and ruined everything, and it feels really, really good to see it be Yuta for once. It's sick, he knows, but there's something incredibly satisfying about seeing Yuta go through exactly what he's been going through, and knowing he made that happen. But then, for some reason, the sound of the front door banging open at the end of the entryway triggers something in him. Before he can think about it, he finds himself dashing in the same direction, yanking the door open a few seconds after it closes.

"Wait. Yuta, wait," Doyoung calls out into the hallway, trying to even out his breathing. Yuta's halfway down the hall by now, quick and decisive steps echoing off the polished stone floor, and Doyoung expects him to keep walking. He expects to be left standing here looking like an idiot for trying to catch the attention of Yuta's back while the lift doors shut in his face, losing the upper hand he finally gained. But there are two voices in his head, overlapping and mingling together. There's Ten's, telling him _if you do somehow get a chance to make peace … think of it as doing it for yourself_ , and _keep an open mind_ , and _don't rule out the chance that this could turn things around_ , and _you can be the better person when it matters_. And Yuta's, saying _I'm sorry_ , and _I understand why you feel that way_ , and _I wasn't trying to hurt you_. Then suddenly, an image of that look on Yuta's face. That innocent, guileless, open look. Doyoung's done this before. He's swallowed his pride and taken the risk of looking like a fool and brought things back from what he thought was past the point of no return. He can do it again. "Yuta. Please."

To his surprise, Yuta actually turns around.

Yuta doesn't say anything. He just looks at Doyoung. His expression is completely blank, but his eyes are closed off in a way that reveals that at any moment he could walk away again. At this distance the dim lighting casts him a bit into shadow, and it's so easy to imagine him turning away. Doyoung's heart catches in his chest. He knows one slip-up will ruin his chance entirely, and if he fails this time, he may not get another attempt. But he has to try, and hope for the best.

"I'm sorry," Doyoung says, for the first time since they've met. Since all the fights they've had. Since all the times Yuta has said it to him. "I didn't mean for that to happen. I didn't want it to. And I'm sorry." Surprisingly, Yuta is still listening to him. Doyoung opens his mouth again, searching for the right words, but they don't come. He can't find the pretty, flowery expressions of remorse and regret that are meant to follow the apology, and even if he could, they'd just come out wrong. He gives up on trying to say the right thing, and says the only thing he can. "I'm tired of this. I'm just … so tired of this. I'm sorry."

Several moments of silence go by. The tension is so thick it feels like it's enveloping him, crushing him, filling his lungs until it's harder to breathe. And then finally Yuta says, "I'm tired of it too."

Doyoung takes a step towards him, and Yuta doesn't move. He takes another step, and then another, until he's standing in front of Yuta. Close. Then closer. "I don't get it," he says. "I don't get _this_ , and I don't get _you_ , and I don't … Are we making progress? Please tell me. Because every time I feel like we're making progress, we end up in another argument and it's like we never got anywhere at all. I'm tired of it, and I can't keep going nowhere with you. So please tell me."

It's silent again for a long time, but Yuta doesn't move away from him. The only noise is both of their breathing, the muffled chatter from the party down the hall and the faint chime of the lift on the floor below. As the silence stretches on, Doyoung can feel himself losing faith. Just when he's about to give up on this and walk away himself, Yuta says, "We are."

It's not enough. Doyoung wants to believe him — he wants to believe him so badly — but he doesn't know.

And then, once again, it's about faith. That same leap of faith he keeps taking, over and over, about whether to risk humiliation and hurt and give this relationship another chance. Give _Yuta_ another chance. Making apologies, accepting them, letting him get close again after pushing him away — it's all been about faith. Trusting that whether for the sake of keeping the peace, or sparing himself seemingly endless vexation, or something more, the risk is worth it. _Frustrating, but worth it_ , he remembers Mark saying. He just wants to get past the _frustrating_ to whatever comes next. The thing is, he doesn't know if he'll ever get past it, or if there's even a _worth it_ waiting on the other side for him. If _anything_ comes next. He doesn't know if he's persevering, or if he's just giving himself false hope again and again.

_He's got one more pass for a major fuck-up and apology_ , Ten's voice reminds him, _and once he uses that up, it's zero tolerance from that point on_.

_That's fair_ , Doyoung had agreed. _Fourth time, no mercy_.

He _did_ agree then, with a perfectly clear head, when right now in the heat of the moment everything is mixed up with anger and exhaustion and _Yuta_. And Ten was right; he's always right. So if it's only one more time, Doyoung can let himself believe. Just this one last time.

"Then we need to act like it," Doyoung says finally, after the soft whir of the heating coming back on and another chime of the lift below. "If neither of us wants this to keep happening, we need to stop letting it."

Yuta nods slowly. "Okay. No more fights."

Doyoung looks at him sceptically and snorts. "Let's not start this new chapter off with lies."

Yuta smiles wryly. "Fine. No more dumb, personal, petty fights."

Doyoung gives him the same look again. "I said no lies."

Yuta sighs. "Okay. No dumb, personal, petty major arguments."

Doyoung considers it, then nods as well. "I can find that sufficiently plausible."

"I would add the caveat that we're free to carry out those arguments inside our heads," Yuta proposes, reasoning, "We still need a way to have them in order to … not have them."

"Reasonable and fair," Doyoung agrees. "And also, we figure those dumb, personal, petty fights out. We handle them on the spot instead of this thing where we storm off and then grow progressively more and more bitter as we carry the anger around for weeks and internalise it on a deep and pervasive level —"

"That's just you," Yuta interjects.

"Well, whatever the case may be." Doyoung moves quickly past this inconvenient fact. "So we don't cross lines, we don't let things get out of hand and we resolve them as soon as the whole, um, conversation has played out. Because … obviously it's going to, whether we like it or not, so we just have to mitigate the damage at the end. Which we will. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Yuta answers.

Doyoung looks him over analytically, from the genuineness in his eyes to the openness of his posture, and he knows Yuta means it. But he's not going to let him off _that_ easily. "How do I know I should believe you?"

Yuta replies instantly. "Because I don't want to have dumb, personal, petty major arguments with you either."

It's a satisfying enough answer, but Doyoung won't give in until he's positive he's driven the point home. "I mean it, Yuta," he warns. "I'm telling you right now, this is the last chance I'm giving things between us. If we have another argument of this scale, that's it. I will cut you off. We will interact in a purely professional capacity, or we will not interact at all. So don't agree to this unless you absolutely fucking will uphold this agreement."

"I will," Yuta swears, with complete sincerity. "I absolutely fucking will uphold it."

"I will too," Doyoung says. They exchange awkward smiles, but it's not a bad awkward. It's always been bad before, but this time it's kind of okay. "Shake on it?"

Yuta laughs. "You already groped every part of my body. Isn't that enough?"

Doyoung swats his arm lightly, letting out a small laugh as well. "Stop." After a second, he points out, "You know, you forgot your coat. And your … everything else."

"Ah. Yeah." Yuta's face has a wry look of recognition. "I was just in a hurry to get out of there. And maybe my subconscious also wanted me to have a proper dramatic exit."

"It's probably more of the second," Doyoung says. "So you should probably go get those. See, I'm being nice. I could've let you freeze to death, but instead, out of the goodness of my heart —"

"Bullshit," Yuta says, but there's no bite behind it. There's just that beautiful smile. The one that still makes Doyoung weak after all this time, because somehow he's not become desensitised to it. Looking at it, gorgeous and warm and perfectly _Yuta_ , he fears he may never stop feeling this way. This close, that same dim lighting makes him glow. Yuta grabs Doyoung's hand and pulls him back down the hallway, leaving Doyoung scrambling to catch up even though Yuta's legs are shorter. The hallway's acoustics loudly reflect back the sound of his uneven, harried footsteps, and Yuta knows what he's doing. Damn him. "I can believe you have a heart, but I don't buy that there's a single shred of goodness in it."

"There is," Doyoung protests, finally getting level with Yuta right as they reach the door. "There is so much goodness."

Yuta shakes his head. "You're gonna have to convince me."

They pause in front of the door, their fingers lacing together in a way that's so natural and simple, and Doyoung gives him a smile that's clearly accepting a challenge. "Oh, you better _believe_ I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this](https://78.media.tumblr.com/e9d0d92cfd994df9cbb9459209f650fd/tumblr_p8ore4iT0g1v6bamko1_1280.jpg) is the tie. i had to get someone with much better eyesight than myself to decipher it, and i'm going to trust her on this. 
> 
> thank you for all your support. i appreciate the long-time readers who haven't forgotten about this fic, and i promise not to either.


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